THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


MY    PATH   THROUGH 

LIFE 


BY 

I.ILLI   LEHMANN 

Lilli  Lehmann 

Reproduced  from  a  photograph  by  E.  Bieber,  Berlin 
(By  permission) 

TRANSLATED  BT 
AI  UK    BENEDICT   SELIGMAN 


MY   PATH   THROUGH 

LIFE 


BY 

LILLI   LEHMANN 


TRANSLATED  BY 
ALICE    BENEDICT   SELIGMAN 


With  50  Illustrations 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

Ube  Iknicfcerbocfeer  press 

1914 


COPYRIGHT.  1914 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


TEbe  •fcntcfecrbocfcer  press,  Dew  X?orfc 


Music 
Library 


DeOicateO  to 

MY  DEVOTED   SISTER 
MARIE 

IN  LOVE  AND  GRATITUDE 


1103175 


PREFACE 

The  artist,  who  strives  as  such  to  fulfil  his  mission,  may 
not  forget  that  he  has  an  equally  earnest  task  to  perform 
as  a  simple  human  being.  He  should  be  a  worshipper  of 
Nature,  whose  ever-new  marvels  are  disclosed  to  him  only 
to  lead  him  to  the  innermost  religious  truths,  to  mildness, 
goodness,  charity,  and  justice  toward  everything  that  lives 
and  moves  upon  this  bounteous  earth. 

He  should  endeavour  to  promote  the  universal  welfare, 
he  should  try  to  give  aid  to  those  who  want.  Only  as  a 
transient  guest  may  he  live  and  act  on  this  earth,  of  whose 
benefits  he  is  gratefully  conscious  and  therefore  should 
humbly  enjoy. 

He  takes  upon  himself  as  an  artist  to  aspire  to  the 
highest  in  art,  to  become  worthy  of  it  by  complete  self- 
sacrifice,  as  he  assumes  the  duty  of  attaining  to  the  noblest 
in  human  life. 

His  deeds,  intellect,  and  will  must  witness  eloquently  to  his 
worth  to  all  those  who  stand  near  him  or  who  gaze  up- 
wards at  him  with  admiration. 

Only  thus  can  he  discharge  a  small  part  of  the  great  debt 
he  owes  for  all  that  Nature  permitted  him  to  attain  as 
artist  and  as  man,  and  render  the  thanks  due  those  who 
stood  by  him  loyally  or  who  influenced  his  artistic  and 
human  development. 

LILLI  LEHMANN. 

GRUNEWA^D,  March,  1913. 


Contents 

PAGE 

THE  HISTORY  OF  MY  DEAR  FAMILY  i 

MY  GRANDPARENTS      .......  9 

MY  PARENTS:  MARIE  LOEW,  CARL  AUGUST   LEHMANN, 

1848-1853      ...  17 

PRAGUE,  1853-1868      ....  .21 

DANTZIC.     FROM  THE  AUTUMN  OF  1868   TO  THE  SPRING 

OF  1869 -97 

LEIPSIC,  1869-1870 .  124 

BERLIN,  1870-1875 -  143 

BAYREUTH,     JUNE-JULY-AUGUST,     1875;     JUNE-JULY- 
AUGUST,  1876        .......  i98 

AFTER  BAYREUTH,  1876-1878 241 

STOCKHOLM,  1878-1879 251 

LONDON,  1880-1881      ...                  ...  275 

DRESDEN,  PRAGUE,  VIENNA,  1881-1882                   .         .  288 

PARSIFAL,  1881-1883    ...                            .         .  299 

BERLIN,  1884-1885       .         .         .   .                        •  3H 

AMERICA,  NOVEMBER,  1885,  TO  JULY,  1886   .         .         .  329 


viii  Contents 


PAGE 


AMERICA,  1886-1887 362 

AMERICA,  1887-1889 371 

GRUNEWALD,  1889 382 

AMERICA,  1891-1892     „ 396 

CASTLE    SEGENHAUS — CARMEN  SYLVA — ROBERT    FRANZ, 

1893-1896     .         .  ••      .         .  .         .         .  402 

BAYREUTH,    1896.     VICTOR   TILGNER  AND   HIS    MOZART 

MONUMENT  .         .         .         .         ....         .  415 

SCHARFLING         .  .         .   .      .         .         »        .  437 

SALZBURG   .         .         .         ...         ,         .         .  454 

CONCLUSION 487 

OPERA  REPERTOIRE  OF  LILLI  LEHMANN         .         .         .  489 

INDEX          .         .         .         .         „         ...         .  497 


Illustrations 

PAGE 

LILLI  LEHMANN  .      •   .         .         .         .         .     Frontispiece 

From  a  photograph  by  E.  Bieber,  Berlin. 

AMANDA  VON  BALL'  ARMI  AND  HER  DAUGHTER  .    .    2 

From  a  photograph  by  A.  Russler,  Bamberg. 

FRAU  LANDAMAN  KUNZLE    ......        4 

From  a  photograph  by  Hermann  Boll,  Berlin. 

LANDAMAN  KUNZLE      .......         8 

From  a  photograph  by  Hermann  Boll,  Berlin. 

MARIE  LOEW  AS  REBECCA  IN  "  TEMPLER  UNO  JUDIN  "  .       12 

From  a  photograph  by  Hermann  Boll,  Berlin. 

PROGRAMMES  OF  MME.  LEHMANN'S  EARLY  APPEARANCES: 

EURYANTHE — NORMA     .         .         .         .  14 

DIE  ZAUBERFLOTE — LESTOCQ  .         .         .         .15 

ROBERT  DER  TEUFEL — DIE  JUDIN  .         .         .16 

DER  KREUZRITTER  IN  EGYPTEN — JESSONDA     .         .       17 
FIGARO'S  HOCHZEIT — ZUM  TREUEN  SCHAFER    .         .18 

DON  JUAN    . 19 

CARL  AUGUST  LEHMANN      .        »        .         .         *         .      20 

From  an  old  photograph. 
MARIE  LOEW       .         .         .         «•        „         .-        ,      .-•••„      60 

From  a  photograph  by  Hermann  Boll,  Berlin. 


x  Illustrations 

PAGE 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AT  THE  AGE  OF  FIFTEEN     ...       74 

From  a.  photograph  by  S.  Kohn,  Prague 
MARIE  LEHMANN  AS  LEONORE  IN  "TROUBADOUR"         .       86 

From  a  photograph  by  Alexander  Seitz,  Leipsic. 

MARIE  LEHMANN  AS  PRINCESS  IN  "VON  TRAPEZUNT"  .       86 

From  a  photograph  by  W.  Breuning,  Hamburg 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  THEOPHILA  IN   "  KRONDIAMANTEN  "     102 

From  an  old  photograph  taken  in  1869. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  ROSINE  IN  "BARBIER  VON  SEVILLE"     102 

From  a  photograph  in  possession  of  Mme.  Rosa  Fischer,  taken 
in  1869. 

LILLI   LEHMANN  AS  CARLO  BROSCHI  IN  "  DES  TEUFELS 

ANTEIL"       .  .  .         .         .         .     104 

From  a  photograph. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  MARIE  IN  "ZAR  UND  ZIMMERMANN"     104 
From  an  old  photograph. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  .         .  .         .         .         .         .     142 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin. 

MARIE  LEHMANN          .         .  '      »         .         .         .         .     180 

From  a  steel  engraving  of  a  photo  by  Nach. 

RICHARD  WAGNER        .         .         .         .         .         .         .184 

From  an  old  print. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  NOEMI  IN  "MACCABAER"       .         .     194 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin. 

MINNA  LAMMERT  AS  FLOSSHILDE,  LILLI  LEHMANN  AS 
WOGLINDE,  MARIE  LEHMANN  AS  WELLGUNDE  IN 
"RHEINGOLD"  ..  „  ...  ..  .  .  224 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  Albert,  Munchen,  taken  in  1876. 


Illustrations  xi 

PAGE 

MARIE    LEHMANN    AS    ORTLINDE,    LILLI    LEHMANN    AS 

HELMWIEGE  IN  "WALKURE"          ....     230 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  Albert,  Munchen. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  FIDELIO          .         .  .         .     240 

From  a  photograph  of  the  painting  by  Hans  Volkmer,  Munchen, 
taken  in  1878. 

MARIE  LEHMANN          ........     292 

From  a  photograph  taken  in  Vienna  in  1895. 

LILLI    LEHMANN    AS    BARONIN    FREIMANN    IN    "WILD- 

SCHUTZ  "........     306 

From  a  photograph  by  E.  Bieber,  Berlin,  taken  in  1882. 

LILLI   LEHMANN  AS   BARONIN   FREIMANN   (STUDENT)  IN 

"WILDSCHUTZ"     .......     308 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin,  taken  in  1883. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  NORM  A  .         .         .         .         .         .314 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin,  taken  in  1887. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  FRICKA  IN  "WALKURE"          .         .     316 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin,  taken  in  1887. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  ISOLDE   IN   "TRISTAN  UNO  ISOLDE"     320 

From  a  photograph  by  Aime"  Dupont,  New  York,  taken  in  1886. 
(Copyright  by  Aime'  Dupont.) 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  NORMA  ......     326 

From  a  photograph  of  the  painting  by  Hans  Volkmer,  taken  in 
1885. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  ........     328 

From  an  amateur  photograph  taken  in  1885. 
LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  CARMEN          .....     340 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin,  taken  in  1884. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  CARMEN         j  •    .;..         .         .  .      .    344 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin,  taken  in  1884. 


xii  Illustrations 

PAGE 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  BRUNHILD  IN  "WALKURE"      .         .     350 

From  a  photograph  by  Falk,  New  York,  taken  in  1886. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  ISOLDE   IN   "TRISTAN  UND  ISOLDE"     366 

From  a  photograph  by  Aime"  Dupont,  New  York,  taken  in  1884. 
Copyright  by  Aime'  Dupont. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  VIVIANE  IN  GOLDMARK'S  "MERLIN"    370 

From  a  photograph  by  P.  Kalmar,  Budapest,  taken  in  1887. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AND  PAUL  KALISCH     ....     372 

From  a  photograph  by  Falk,  New  York. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  VENUS  IN  "  TANNHAUSER  "      .         .     374 

From  a  photograph  by  Aim6  Dupont,  New  York,  taken  in  1889. 
(Copyright  by  Aims'  Dupont.) 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AS  ORTRUD  IN  "LOHENGRIN"      .         .     414 

From  a  photograph  taken  in  1896. 

MARIE  LEHMANN          .  432 

From  a  photograph  by  Fritz  Luckhardt,  Vienna,  taken  in  1895. 

MARIE  LEHMANN,  LILLI  LEHMANN,  AND  HEDWIG  HELBIG 

AT  SCHARFLING  ON  THE  MONDSEE  ....     436 

From  an  amateur  photograph. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AT  SCHARFLING  ON  THE  MONDSEE        .     438 

From  a  photograph. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AT  SCHARFLING  ON  THE  MONDSEE        .     440 

From  an  amateur  photograph. 

LILLI  LEHMANN,  HEDWIG  HELBIG,  AND  BABY  AT  SCHAR- 
FLING ON  THE  MONDSEE        .         .     >   .         .         .     444 

From  an  amateur  photograph. 

LILLI  LEHMANN  AT  SCHARFLING  ON  THE  MONDSEE         .     448 

From  an  amateur  photograph. 


Illustrations  xiii 

PAGE 

BABY  KALISCH-LEHMANN 486 

From  an  amateur  photograph  taken  in  1901. 

LILLI  LEHMANN'S  BIRTHPLACE  IN  WURZBURG        .         .     488 

From  an  old  photograph. 


Family  Chronicle 


MY  PATH  THROUGH  LIFE 


FROM  an  old  family  chronicle  which  was  recorded  by  our 
aunt,  Frau  Amanda  von  Ball'  Armi,  who  was  as  charming 
as  she  was  talented,  I  find  that  on  the  mother's  side  our  gene- 
alogical tree  can  be  traced  back  to  about  the  year  1690.  Although 
I  knew  only  a  few  of  the  persons  of  the  last  generation  named 
therein,  I  became  so  familiar  with  almost  all  of  them  through 
listening  to  the  stories  told  by  my  dear  mother  that  it  was 
as  though  I  had  lived  with  them,  for  her  descriptions  of  men 
and  their  histories  were  full  of  her  own  warmth  of  nature,  of 
spirit  and  humour,  and  stamped  themselves  deeply  on  my  mind. 
Every  word  is  dear  to  my  heart. 

Accordingly  it  seemed  to  me  worth  while  thus  to  preface  the 
history  of  my  own  life,  as  I  am  bound  to  all  these  loved  ones  by  the 
closest  ties. 

I  think  of  myself  as  a  graft  on  a  fruit  tree,  which  could 
never  have  borne  such  fruit  but  for  such  original  stock. 

And  now  I  shall  let  dear  Aunt  Amanda  take  up  the  narrative. 

LILLI  LEHMANN. 

The  History  of  my  Dear  Family1 

OUR  grandfather  wrote  his  name  "Low";  Uncle  Albana 
and  his  daughters  wrote  it  the  same  way,  "Low." 
Our  father  wrote  it  "Loew";  we  children  painted  it,  after 
his  example,  with  German  letters — "<£oero" — and  it  is 
amusing  that  the  latter  way  of  writing  it  has  become 
stereotyped. 

The  Heidelberg  branch,  however,  have  always  written 
"Low." 

1  Written  about  the  year  1860  by  Frau  Amanda  Dall'  Armi,  wife  of  the  Chief 
Justice  of  the  Supreme  Appellate  Court.  a  Father  of  Marie  Low. 

I 


2  My  Path  Through  Life 

Our  four  great-grandfathers  were  named,  Nicholas  Loew, 
von  Traiteur,  Pfister,  de  la  Condamine. 


Nicholas  Loew 

In  the  man  whose  feelings  are  blunted  in  time  of  war  by  the 
constant  spectacle  of  hunger,  suffering,  and  death  there  yet 
beats  a  warm  heart  for  the  needs  of  a  child. 

1CAN  carry  these  annals  no  farther  back  than  our  great- 
grandfather. The  line  connecting  him  with  Adam  is 
not  clear;  nevertheless,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  our 
ancestors  were  all  distinguished  men,  though  their  merits 
are  unknown;  otherwise  how  can  one  account  for  the  fine 
grandchildren? 

My  narrative,  therefore,  begins  in  the  years  between 
1690-1710,  and  I  glance  first,  although  it  is  not  the  place 
where  my  story  originates,  at  our  native  town  of  Speyer, 
once  a  flourishing  free  city  of  the  Empire,  but  at  that  time 
sadly  reduced  and  despoiled  by  the  rapacious  soldiery  of  our 
French  neighbour. 

In  all  the  pleasant  landscape  only  one  house  remained 
intact,  and  that  was  the  hotel  Zum  Riesen,  which  stood 
with  its  balcony  in  the  Maximilianstrasse  like  a  monument 
of  bygone  days.  All  private  houses  and  public  buildings, 
including  the  episcopal  palace,  had  fallen  a  prey  to  the  flames. 
It  was  an  artistic  mistake  to  build  this  residence  adjoining 
the  cathedral.  One  can  see  now,  or  could  thirty  years  ago, 
two  gates  on  the  west  side  of  the  cathedral,  dating  from  the 
Palatinate,  that  seemed  to  be  suspended  in  the  air,  and  as  a 
child  I  often  pondered  why  they  were  there  and  if  at  night 
ghosts  passed  in  and  out  through  them.  The  palace 
itself  must  have  been  very  beautiful — a  really  splendid 
building. 

The  Bishop  of  Speyer,  however,  had  abandoned  his 
Palatinate  (Pfalz)  in  early  times  because  of  his  frequent 


1 3-  7  f  YT  '/YJOlYIi  OA' YV* 


Amanda  von  DalF  Armi  and  her  Daughter 

From  a  photograph  by  A.  Russler,  Bamberg 


Nicholas  Loew  3 

quarrels  with  the  citizens,  and  had  betaken  himself  across 
the  Rhine  to  Bruchsal,  where  he  owned  another  residence. 
Even  in  its  best  days  the  latter  town  was  never  more  than  a 
small  bishop's  seat;  the  castle  still  exists  but  is  quite  deserted, 
while  the  castle  courtyard  resembles,  or  did  so  when  I  saw 
it,  a  neglected  meadow,  where  nothing  lives  or  stirs  save 
a  Baden  sentinel  and  the  innumerable  goldfish  in  the  two 
basins,  recalling  the  favourite  amusements  of  the  rococo 
period. 

Sometime  about  the  year  1600  or  1700  when  our  history 
begins  to  dawn,  and  in  this  same  city  of  Bruchsal,  this  court- 
yard had  a  different  aspect.  If  the  household  of  a  spiritual 
lord  is  not,  or  I  should  say  was  not,  as  cheerful  and  animated 
a  scene  as  that  of  a  secular  establishment,  there  was  at  that 
time  something  to  be  observed  in  the  castle  yard  of  Bruchsal 
other  than  grass-grown  soil  and  a  slimy  fish-pond.  Sleek 
canons  passed  in  and  out  and  servants  in  rich  liveries  followed 
them,  for  the  Lords  of  the  Chapter  had  come  from  Speyer  to 
Bruchsal  in  attendance  on  their  chief,  and  as  they  formerly 
belonged  to  the  highest  nobility,  they  indulged  in  great 
luxury  and  seldom  went  on  foot  from  their  place  of  arrival 
to  the  castle.  In  those  days  there  were  few  carriages  such 
as  now,  but  gently  swaying  litters,  which  have  become  quite 
antiquated,  were  then  much  in  vogue,  especially  with 
ecclesiastics.  The  Bishop,  however,  used  an  equipage  of 
state,  and  as  a  child  I  was  given  a  doll's  carriage  by  a  cousin 
from  Deidesheim  which  had  been  made  originally  in  imitation 
of  His  Lordship's.  It  was  very  clumsily  built  and  resembled 
an  omnibus  of  the  present  day,  but  with  a  roof  which  ex- 
tended far  beyond  the  underbody,  like  a  Swiss  chalet. 
Heavy  gilded  carvings  ornamented  the  four  corners  of  the 
roof,  and  the  whole  vehicle  was  overloaded  with  gold  and 
looked  very  unwieldy.  The  coachman  and  footman  wore 
huge  wigs,  which  were  exceeded  in  size  by  those  worn  by  the 
two  dignitaries  who  rode  within.  The  wigmaker  of  that 
age  was  an  important  person,  for  no  matter  how  high  the 


4  My  Path  Through  Life 

gentlemen  carried  their  heads,  they  carried  their  perruques 
still  higher.  In  the  retinue  of  the  Bishop  were  many  house 
servants  and  court  attendants,  who  lived  partly  in  the  castle, 
partly  in  the  town,  so  that  it  was  never  quite  still  in  or  near 
the  castle  precincts.  But  the  great  moment  was  when  His 
Grace  drove  out.  Then  the  passer-by  paused  to  admire  the 
runners,  who  were  the  first  to  emerge  from  the  gates,  fol- 
lowed by  the  gorgeous  carriages  and  the  lackeys.  It  was  all 
very  stately,  variegated,  and  splendid  to  behold. 

Bruchsal  had  suffered  less  than  the  cities  in  the  Palatinate ; 
its  inhabitants  had  been  annoyed  mostly  by  the  passage  of 
troops,  and  on  the  day  my  story  opens,  notification  had  been 
given  of  a  fresh  quartering  of  soldiers.  They  were  Austrians, 
on  the  march  to  the  Portress  of  Philippsburg ;  the  month  was 
January  and  the  cold  intense. 

On  the  left  side  of  the  street  called  the  "Kaffeegass"  in 
Bruchsal,  opening  from  the  High  Street,  is  an  attractive 
house,  and  near  it  a  spring  adorned  by  a  mythological  or 
allegorical  figure,  which,  as  far  as  I  can  tell,  represents  a  boy 
with  a  swan.  The  townspeople  called  this  spring  "Das 
Schwane-Werthel, "  or  did  so  in  old  days.  In  this  house 
lived,  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  a  worthy  old  married  couple, 
the  court  wigmaker,  Loew,  and  his  wife;  and  here,  on  a 
bitterly  cold  January  day,  quartered  troops  were  expected 
and  were  arriving,  for  unwelcome  guests  seldom  remain 
away.  An  adequate  supper  had  been  prepared  and  the  room 
thoroughly  warmed. 

In  one  respect  the  so-called  good  old  times  had  the 
advantage  of  ours,  namely,  in  that  wood  might  be  used 
unsparingly.  It  was  evening  and  the  table  was  laid;  a 
thin  tallow  candle  gave  illumination,  any  kind  of  candle 
being  then  accounted  a  luxury;  in  fact,  the  court  servants 
received  these  candles  as  salary.  The  table  was  laid  for 
eight;  two  places  for  the  master  and  mistress,  two  for  the 
assistants,  one  for  the  maid,  and  the  remaining  ones  for  the 
three  soldiers  of  the  Emperor.  As  six  o'clock  struck,  which 


Frau  Landaman  Kiinzle 
From  a  photograph  by  Hermann  Boll,  Berlin 


Nicholas  Loew  5 

was  the  hour  for  supper,  there  sounded  on  the  house  door 
three  rude  knocks  announcing  the  military. 

The  master  of  the  house,  the  wigmaker,  gave  the  house 
key  to  the  younger  assistant  (in  those  days  the  door  was 
locked  early),  and  the  mistress  handed  the  light  to  the  maid 
with  a  caution  to  hold  it  straight.  Master  and  mistress 
and  the  first  assistant  sat  still  in  the  dark  room  and  listened 
to  the  turning  of  the  key,  the  unlocking  of  the  house  door, 
and  the  approach  of  rapid  masculine  steps.  The  door 
opened,  and,  with  an  anxious  face,  the  maid  entered,  almost 
shoved  forward  by  the  two  soldiers  who  followed.  In  her 
hand  burned  the  special  candle  of  the  bishopric  of  Speyer. 
The  soldiers  were  in  tremendous  haste,  and  as  they  burst  into 
the  room,  instead  of  the  customary  greeting  they  shouted 
out,  half  in  entreaty,  half  in  command,  "Soup,  soup,  soup!" 
but  every  one  was  used  to  such  manners  and  felt  no  surprise. 

Astonishment  followed,  however,  when  the  third  soldier 
entered.  In  addition  to  his  usual  equipment  he  carried  in 
his  arms  a  bundle  or  a  rigid  heap  of  something.  He  quickly 
seated  himself  with  it  by  the  stove,  and  joined  his  fellows 
in  calling  for  "Soup,  soup,  soup!"  Everybody  hastened  to 
satisfy  the  tempestuous  guests,  and  in  a  few  seconds  the  big 
soup  tureen  was  steaming  on  the  table.  The  soldiers  sprang 
up,  and  the  two  who  were  the  first  to  enter  wanted  to  take 
the  bundle  from  their  comrade,  but  he  refused  to  let  it  out 
of  his  arms.  All  seated  themselves  around  the  table,  and 
the  master  of  the  house  said  grace.  The  soldier  with  the 
bundle,  however,  took  no  part  in  the  act  of  devotion,  but 
promptly  poured  into  his  plate  a  big  spoonful  of  soup.  The 
host's  voice  changed  slightly  from  a  devotional  tone  to  one 
of  mild  annoyance,  being  checked  by  the  fact  that  in  those 
days  everybody  trembled  before  the  soldiery,  even  when 
the  latter  were  friendly.  The  others  glanced  inquisitively 
at  the  soldier's  bundle,  especially  the  maid,  prompting 
the  wife  of  the  court  wigmaker  to  look  reprovingly  at  her 
"  Americhe,"  while  involuntarily  scrutinising  it  herself.  As 


6  My  Path  Through  Life 

the  last  word  of  the  prayer  was  uttered,  she  exclaimed  loudly, 
"A  child,  a  child,  a  child!"  and  all  the  others  in  chorus 
shouted,  "A  child,  a  child,  a  child!" 

The  good-hearted  Austrian  fed  the  little  one  with  warm 
soup,  perhaps  thinking  the  while  that  this  service  of  love 
was  also  a  prayer.  The  child  was  a  boy  about  two  years  old, 
who  became  our  great-grandfather,  and  this  ancestor  of  ours 
found  the  soup  to  his  liking.  He  was  half  numb  with  cold 
and  the  soup  was  hot.  Then  came  a  big  dish  of  blood  sau- 
sage and  a  savoury  cabbage  salad,  and  if  potatoes  had  then 
been  known  in  Bruchsal,  they,  too,  would  have  been  served, 
but  none  were  to  be  had.  Our  great-grandfather,  like  his 
grandchildren,  had  a  good  appetite.  He  enjoyed  the  sausage 
and  the  cabbage  salad,  and  the  delighted  housewife  said: 
"  If  I  had  known  that  a  child  was  coming,  I  would  have  made 
some  broth."  This  benevolent  speech  started  a  conversa- 
tion from  which  the  family  learned  how  the  soldiers  had  got 
possession  of  the  child.  Our  great-grandfather  had  been 
found  by  the  Emperor's  men  on  the  highroad  where  he 
was  sitting  half  frozen  on  a  heap  of  stones.  Moved  by  pity 
the  soldiers  had  picked  up  the  child,  although  not  knowing 
what  to  do  with  it,  as  they  could  not  take  it  to  the  garrison 
at  Philippsburg.  They  questioned  the  boy  as  to  his  name 
and  where  he  came  from,  but  he  did  not  know  and  could  say 
only  a  few  words,  the  sole  bit  of  information  that  he  could 
give  being  that  he  was  called  Nicholas. 

Of  his  parents  and  home  the  child  could  tell  nothing,  but 
on  the  whole  the  little  Nicholas  must  have  been  an  attractive 
infant,  who  appeared  still  more  so  in  his  helpless  state.  The 
rough-hearted  soldiers  were  not  the  only  ones  softened  by  the 
sight,  but  also  the  wigmaker,  his  wife,  his  two  assistants,  and 
the  maid.  Frau  Loew  begged  the  soldiers  to  permit  her  to 
keep  the  boy  for  the  night,  to  which  her  husband  agreed, 
and  when  the  guests  had  gone  to  bed  and  to  sleep,  the  couple 
long  discussed  the  question  of  the  child.  When  morning 
came,  a  large  basin  of  soup  was  served  again  at  breakfast, 


Nicholas  Loew  7 

coffee  being  drunk  only  by  the  aristocracy.  Then  the 
worthy  wigmaker,  in  full  accord  with  his  wife,  laid  before  his 
guests  the  proposition  that,  as  they  had  no  children  of  their 
own,  they  should  keep  Nicholas  and  adopt  him.  The  sol- 
diers were  delighted,  and  all  three  in  company  with  the 
Loews  were  moved  to  tears. 

As  a  farewell  potation,  Frau  Loew  brought  in  a  big  pitcher 
of  wine  of  her  own  making,  of  which  the  men  of  war  took 
huge  draughts,  drowning  their  emotion.  Thereupon  they 
proceeded  on  their  march  to  Philippsburg.  I  do  not  know 
whether  our  great-grandfather  ever  saw  the  good  Austrians 
again ;  in  those  days  one  seldom  went  beyond  the  boundaries 
of  his  own  district.  He  took,  however,  a  Philippsburg 
woman  to  wife,  a  circumstance  which  warrants  the  conjec- 
ture that  he  reached  the  neighbouring  fortress.  Now  that 
our  ancestor,  in  charge  of  his  good  foster-parents,  had 
entered  on  the  scene  of  his  history,  there  should  be  much  to 
relate  of  him,  but  it  is  with  his  biography  as  with  the  episcopal 
candles  of  Speyer  that  do  not  burn  long, — I  know  hardly  any- 
thing additional .  Nicholas  learned  the  trade  of  his  adopted 
father,  and  became  an  honest  man,  and  after  the  deaths  of 
his  foster-parents,  he  inherited  the  house  in  the  Kaffeegasse, 
a  fine  vineyard,  and  also  became  wigmaker  to  the  court. 
I  do  not  know  the  dates  of  our  great- grandparents'  deaths. 
They  left  an  only  son  named  Jacob,  who  was  the  father  of  our 
father. 

Up  to  this  point  we  have  been  following  Aunt  Aman- 
da's narrative,  and  it  has  shown  the  origin  of  our 
maternal  ancestor.  Henceforth  I  am  unfortunately  com- 
pelled to  be  brief,  though  at  the  expense  of  much  that  is 
interesting  relating  to  the  times  and  the  personalities  and 
to  many  historically  and  culturally  important  events,  which 
can  be  followed  through  the  German  Family  Chronicle. 

The  most  eminent  descendants  on  the  genealogical  tree 
are:  Freiherr  (Baron)  von  Traiteur,  Pfister  (our  great- 


8  My  Path  Through  Life 

grandfather,  de  la  Condamine,  a  cavalier  at  the  Court  of 
Savoy,  whose  son,  Charles  Maria  de  la  Condamine,  was  the 
celebrated  naturalist,  and  the  first  person  to  make  the 
ascent  of  Chimborazo ;  Jacob  Low,  Doctor  of  Medicine  and 
Privy  Councillor,  who  married  Maria  Theresia  von  Traiteur ; 
Placidus  Joseph  Anton  Pfister,  whose  wife  was  Maria 
Magdalena  de  la  Condamine. 

Jacob  Loew,  the  son  of  Nicholas,  the  adopted  child  of 
Low,  the  court  wigmaker,  studied  medicine,  and  was  body 
physician  to  the  Bishop  of  Speyer.  He  had  four  sons: 
Josef  Adam,  Hans,  Alban,  and  Jacob.  Hans  became  an 
advocate  and  was  the  father  of  Aunt  Amanda,  the  writer 
of  the  Chronicle,  while  Alban  was  my  grandfather. 

Alban  desired  to  become  an  artist,  but  he  was  brought  up 
to  be  a  merchant,  according  to  the  wish  of  his  early  deceased 
father,  and  he  married  the  daughter  of  the  magistrate  and 
burgomaster,  Kuenzle,  of  Gossau  in  Switzerland. 

Court  officials  to  kings,  bishops,  princes,  and  abbots, 
officers  of  high  rank,  physicians,  advocates,  merchants  are 
to  be  found  amongst  the  relatives  who  are  near  to  me  in  line. 
There  were  valiant  men  and  women,  amongst  them  my 
great-grandmother,  who,  armed  and  at  the  head  of  a  small 
company  of  revolutionists,  marched  against  the  Abbot  of 
Appenzell  himself. 

These  brief  references  are  a  poor  substitute  for  Aunt 
Amanda's  narrative,  so  I  will  hasten  to  begin  with  my  grand- 
parents, for  my  mother's  stories  about  them  still  ring  in  my 
ears. 


Landaman  Kiinzle 

From  a  photograph  by  Hermann  Boll,  Berlin 


My  Grandparents 

AUNT  AMANDA  was  right  in  saying  that  my  grand- 
father, Alban  Loew,  had  nothing  of  the  merchant  in 
him ;  he  was  given  over  to  the  love  of  art  and  nature.  He  had 
qualities  that  were  not  suited  to  business,  but  which  made  a 
very  solid  foundation  on  which  his  second  daughter  Marie 
(our  dear  mother)  and  later  her  daughters,  Lilli  and  Marie 
(our  humble  selves),  were  able  to  build  their  great  careers. 
He  gave  his  very  talented  children  the  opportunity  to  study 
everything  that  seemed  to  him  valuable,  and  on  her  sixth 
birthday  presented  my  mother  with  a  large,  splendid  pedal 
harp  (there  were  as  yet  no  double  pedal  harps  at  that  time), 
which  he  had  sent  direct  from  Erard  of  Paris,  and  which  still 
stands  in  my  drawing-room  to-day.  It  is  possible  that  it  was 
the  old  Margravine  of  Baden,  who  then  lived  in  Heidelberg 
and  was  friendly  with  my  grandparents,  who  was  the  origi- 
nator of  this  very  idea.  My  mother  for  many  years  re- 
ceived instruction  from  her  personally  on  this  very  difficult 
instrument,  which  later  on  my  beloved  mother  played  so 
remarkably  well.  With  this  the  corner-stone  was  laid  of  her 
very  fine  musical  culture,  to  which  she  was  predestined  by 
her  talent,  industry,  and  seriousness. 

When  the  family  went  to  Switzerland  on  a  visit,  Gran  - 
father  Loew  used  to  climb  the  Santis  and  the  surrounding 
mountains  with  his  daughters,  and  botanise  with  them  all 
day  long,  experiences  which  my  mother  always  recalled  with 
delight.  There,  especially,  amid  sublime  nature,  he  laid  in 
the  children's  hearts  the  foundation  of  all  goodness,  the 

9 


io  My  Path  Through  Life 

unbounded  love  of  animals  and  plants.  He  practised  world 
philosophy  with  them,  young  and  tender  as  they  were,  and 
waked  all  the  slumbering  buds  that  unfolded  so  nobly  later, 
especially  in  my  mother. 

But  as  my  grandmother,  also,  was  more  of  a  poetess  than 
a  business  woman — she  left  behind  after  her  very  early  death 
whole  volumes  of  poems  and  a  history  of  Napoleon  I,  written 
in  the  French  language — one  can  easily  surmise  that  these 
two  Loews  did  not  fill  their  pockets  with  gold  pieces,  even 
though  they  conducted  a  large  linen  and  cambric  business 
in  Heidelberg.  Even  as  recently  as  1875  this  business  still 
had  the  best  reputation.  It  did  not  pass  out  of  the  hands  of 
the  family  until  much  later. 

The  homesickness,  from  which  grandmother  suffered,  was 
sometimes  quieted  by  short  stays  at  Gossau,  whither  she 
herself  travelled  with  the  children  in  the  winter  seasons. 
From  Heidelberg  the  drive  thither  in  sleighs  took  eight  days. 
My  mother  remembered  these  journeys  vividly,  and  in  1881, 
when  I  was  in  Switzerland,  wrote  me  about  them: 

i 

...  I  should  like  to  have  made  the  journey  with  you 
to  St.  Gall  and  Gossau.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  it  has  moved 
me  to  hear  that  you  are  visiting  the  scene  of  my  early  childhood, 
of  which  I  have  so  many  bright  as  well  as  mournful  memories. 
Although  I  left  there  at  the  age  of  seven  I  still  know  every  house 
and  where  each  stands,  and  could  name  many  people  that  have 
lived  in  them.  If  you  took  notice  of  it,  you  must  have  seen  across 
the  brook,  about  the  middle  of  the  village,  diagonally  across  from 
the  cemetery,  a  rather  large  two-storied  house.  This  was  ours. 
From  its  windows  I  have  often,  as  a  child,  admired  the  Appen- 
zeller  Alps.  Although  I  was  then  still  very  ignorant,  already  I 
was  spontaneously  sensitive  to  so  much  that  was  beautiful, 
without  the  necessity  of  having  my  attention  called  to  it  by  any 
one.  I  will  bring  to  a  close,  however,  these  recollections  of 
childhood,  for  they  put  me  in  too  tender  a  mood,  and  that  is  not 
good  for  me  at  present.  If  you  go  to  Appenzell,  you  may  think, 
when  you  pass  the  first  mountain,  of  how  we  were  driving  with  a 


My  Grandparents  n 

horse  that  had  become  frightened,  and  were  thrown  by  good  luck 
into  a  ditch  in  front  of  the  mountain  that  had  a  deep  abyss  on 
one  side  of  it.  My  mother  had  hidden  my  youngest  sister  in  a 
huge  muff,  and,  because  of  the  great  danger,  had  already  thrown 
the  child  out  of  the  carriage.  Such  impressions  remain  with  one 
for  life,  so  do  not  mind  if  I  bother  you  with  them. 


She  also  remembered  vividly  the  ninety-six-year-old 
great-grandmother,  on  whose  lap  she  had  often  sat,  and  she 
thought  that  she  had  lived  to  be  ninety-nine. 

Scarcely  thirty-four  years  of  age,  our  grandmother  died 
of  homesickness,  like  so  many  natives  of  the  Alps,  at  Heidel- 
berg in  the  year  1817. 

After  her  death,  grandfather  took  into  the  house  as 
governess  to  his  four  daughters,  a  Fraulein  Charlotte  von 
Arnstadt,  whom  he  married,  about  ten  years  later,  and  who 
presented  him  with  a  son. 

One  or  another  of  the  daughters  was  permitted  to  accom- 
pany him  sometimes  on  the  shorter  business  trips.  It  hap- 
pened on  one  of  these  journeys  undertaken  in  an  open 
carriage  that  the  eldest,  Emilie,  was  stung  on  the  arm  by  a 
bee.  They  went  to  a  peasant's  house  for  assistance,  but  no 
doctor  was  at  hand.  The  peasant's  wife,  who  had  just  been 
churning,  proposed  as  the  best  remedy  to  put  the  child's  arm 
in  the  churn.  So  the  father  and  child  rode  not,  like  the 
Erlking,  swiftly  through  the  wind  and  night,  but  the  father 
drove  slowly  with  the  child  and  the  churn  to  the  nearest  little 
town  where,  after  much  cross-questioning  at  the  town  gate, 
they  found  a  physician  about  midnight.  The  churn  had  to 
be  broken  to  pieces,  as  the  child's  arm  was  already  so  swollen 
that  it  could  not  be  got  out  otherwise.  When,  later  on,  the 
three  eldest  daughters  moved  to  Frankfort-on-Maine, 
grandfather  settled  at  Breslau  with  the  rest  of  the  family, 
where  he  died  of  cholera  in  1829,  Julchen  having  departed 
this  life  before  him. 


12  My  Path  Through  Life 

Marie  Loew 
Frankfort-on-Maine — Cassel 

Extract  from  the  Cassel  Theatre  Archives: 
Marie  Loew, 

who  was  born  at  Heidelberg  in  1807,  received  a  musical  education, 
and  made  such  rapid  progress,  especially  on  the  harp,  that  at 
the  age  of  thirteen  she  was  heard  in  public,  distinguishing  her- 
self. As  she  was  also  endowed  with  a  lovely  voice  it  was  care- 
fully trained  by  Schleyder  von  Wartensen  and  Schelble.  She 
appeared  on  the  stage  at  Frankfort-on-Maine  as  Agathe  in  the 
Freischutz,  and  her  good  method  and  really  beautiful  voice 
speedily  won  her  fame  and  engagements  at  Magdeburg,  Bruns- 
wick, Bremen,  Aix,  and  Leipsic,  while  she  appeared  as  a  visit- 
ing artist  at  Mannheim,  Darmstadt,  and  Cassel;  in  the  last 
named  city  she  has  filled  the  position  of  court  singer  since 
1837.  Amongst  her  most  successful  parts  are  Norma,  Jessonda, 
Valentine  in  the  Hugenotten,  Romeo,  and  Rebecca  in  Tempter 
und  Jiidin.  By  reason  of  her  active  zeal,  constant  industry, 
correct  interpretation  and  especially  pure  intonation,  and  her 
modest  demands  she  will  be  able  to  retain  the  undivided  applause 
of  the  Cassel  public  which  also,  on  every  occasion,  receives  her 
harp  playing  with  great  enthusiasm.  Her  co-operation  in  church 
finds  all  the  greater  appreciation,  because  her  beautiful,  soft 
and  yet  strong  voice  and  her  simple  delivery  are  especially  suited 
to  church  singing. 

Dates  of  appearances,  et  cetera,  follow. 
Marie  Loew 

AT  the  early  age  of  thirteen  Marie  Loew  was  engaged 
by  the  Cacilienverein  of  Frankfort-on-Maine  in  the 
joint  capacity  of  concert  virtuoso  and  teacher  of  the  harp. 
Her  two  sisters, — the  elder  Emilie  by  name,  the  younger, 
Lilli — accompanied  her  to  Frankfort,  where,  under  the 
protection  of  a  family  whose  friendship  they  had  won,  they 


Marie  Loew  as  Rebecca  in  Tempter  undjudin 

From  a  photograph  by  Hermann  Boll,  Berlin 


My  Grandparents  13 

adjusted  themselves  to  their  new  surroundings.  Emilie  was 
the  "policeman"  of  that  charming  sisterly  trio — in  nearly 
every  family  some  individual  plays  that  role.  I  myself 
was  called  that  later,  when  the  resemblance  between  our 
two  characters  was  recognised. 

All  three  girls  studied  there  what  was  considered  neces- 
sary for  them  to  study,  and  gained  experience  also  in  prac- 
tical domestic  concerns.  Marie  drew  very  well  and  did 
superb  embroidery,  as  she  possessed  talent,  industry,  and 
perseverance  in  everything.  The  rest  has  already  been  told 
us  by  the  Cassel  report. 

At  Leipsic  she  became  acquainted  with  Richard  Wagner, 
his  family,  and  Brockhaus  and  Avenarius,  his  relations.  He 
was  a  daily  guest  of  the  Loew  sisters,  and  brought  Marie 
all  his  difficult,  unsingable  youthful  compositions.  Emilie, 
the  policeman,  drove  him  away  when  he  behaved  too  badly 
and  paid  court  to  Marie,  but  he  did  not  mind  that  and  came 
back  again  daily.  He,  himself,  still  called  Marie  Loew,  in 
later  years,  his  "first  flame, "  and  recalled  many  scenes,  which 
indeed  had  long  escaped  her  own  memory.  At  all  events 
they  had  merry  times  when  he  was  with  them.  They  met 
each  other  again  at  Magdeburg  in  1836,  where  Marie  Loew, 
together  with  Wilhelmine  Schroder-Devrient,  sang,  under 
his  direction,  Norma  and  Romeo  und  Julia,  and  where  a 
comical  little  episode  occurred. 

Marie  Loew,  who,  as  Desdemona  in  Rossini's  Othello,  ac- 
companied herself  on  her  own  harp  in  the  "Willow  Song"  in 
the  last  act,  spoke  down  from  the  stage  to  Richard  Wagner, 
who  conducted  the  opera.  The  orchestra  was  playing  at 
sixes  and  sevens,  and  Desdemona  saw  that  Wagner  turned 
the  leaves  backward,  while  the  orchestra  was  already  far  in 
advance,  so  she  called  out  to  him  from  above,  "Further, 
further!"  The  audience  understood,  "Fire,  fire!"  and  fled 
from  their  seats.  A  panic  arose,  but  the  audience  was  soon 
quieted,  and  the  opera  was  resumed.  They  were  again 
engaged  together  at  Konigsberg,  and  Marie  associated  in  a 


14  My  Path  Through  Life 

friendly  way  with  him  and  his  wife,  Minna  Planer,  of  whom 
she  had  much  good  to  tell.  Immediately  afterward  Marie 
went  to  Bremen,  where  she  was  not  only  mistress  of  an 
excellent  professional  position,  but  was  also  loved  and 
esteemed  in  the  first  patrician  families.  Then  she  went  to 
Cassel  under  Spohr's  direction.  Spohr,  who  valued  her 
highly,  composed  many  things  for  her  for  the  harp,  and  an 
aria  in  his  Faust  by  Klingemann,  that  I  myself  subsequently 
have  often  sung  in  concerts.  A  very  special  distinction 
consisted  in  the  fact  that  Spohr  transposed  a  half  tone 
higher  for  her  the  adagio  of  the  first  aria  of  Jessonda,  as  it 
sounded  more  beautiful,  a  thing  that  he  would  have  done  for 
no  one  else. 

I  give  here  a  letter  of  Ludwig  Spohr's. 

V.  H.,  March  10,  1843. 

HIGHLY  ESTEEMED  FRAULEIN, 

In  recognition  of  your  beautiful  virtuosity  on  the  harp,  which 
is  so  rare  in  Germany,  I  beg  you  to  be  so  good  as  to  accept  the 
accompanying  duet  for  harp  and  violin,  as  a  souvenir  of  the 
composer.  May  it  be  an  inducement  to  you  to  permit  me  and 
others  also  soon  again  to  admire  your  beautiful  talent. 
With  especial  respect, 

Your  very  devoted, 

Louis  SPOHR. 

Later  he  gave  her  also  the  following  testimonial: 

This  certifies  that  Fraulein  Marie  Loew  has  been  a  singer  for 
many  years  at  our  Court  Theatre,  and  that  she  has,  moreover, 
frequently  appeared  at  our  concerts,  amid  general  applause,  as  a 
virtuoso  on  the  pedal  harp. 

DR.  Louis  SPOHR. 

CASSEL,  April  12,  1847. 

All  these  musical  numbers,  like  the  Wagner  compositions, 
have  fallen  a  prey  to  time  and  change. 

In  addition  to  all  the  dramatic  parts  Marie  Loew  sang 
also  the  Queen  of  the  Night,  and  Constanze  in  the  Entfuhrung 


ftnrfiitfftttgis 

gteitag  ben  a  December  1837. 

Abonnement    suspendu. 


Sum  95«nefiee  bet  fiammcrfongerm  £emotfcUe  ^iftor: 

II  M)  II  II  f  I) 

©roj?e  rontantifc&e  £per  in  3  Sfufjugett,  »on  £.  ».  S 

2Jlufif  »on  garl  Sftatia  t>on  SBeber. 


5  f  r  a  o  n  t  n 

£81113  lubwig  btt  Gcdittt, 
KboUt,  (Staf  ju  SRrttrS  unb  SK«(;tl  , 

til  ft  art,  Otaf  son  gortf},         .... 
(Sglantint  Don  ?)ulfft,  tint  Sffangtnt,  Jo^OT 

^crjJjt.        SStflen.        (Sraftn.        gbff. 

Damtn.        JtSuleln.        Sbf  If  na&en. 

C^or  Son  Stiltttn. 

efcot  «on  Oereatiptifl'ii  »n»  SBurgitwu^nttn   ju 

Cbor  Con.Vanl>t(uttn. 


Dtmoiftlle  ?)i(lor. 

2)tmoifellt  SBttllaiifjr. 
*rrr  JJarij. 


ten  28.  December  1837. 

5«  ajcrflcffung  im  3wfitm 


•  1 1  •• 

in  2  Sfofsugen,  »on  gcliy  9tomani; 

SDtuftf  »on  50incenj  SeUint. 


Jfcrr  ScrSfa. 

JJ.-rr  Srirj. 
3>emoifcIIe  to*. 
BtuioifcUc  >l)ifior. 


6«»tr,  tSmifi^er  ^roconfut  in  @allicti, 

Droeift,  ^««|)t  ber  Srnibra, 

SJorma,   twlftn  2oc^tfr,  tine  ©t^riii, 

Ttbulgifa,  9>rif(lftin  bci  bra  Sonjwt  SrminfaW,       •        • 

etotilbe,  9Jorm<-.'«  3rc«nbi»,    .......        SriiwijMfe  TO.  e^ml 

glo»iu«,  ©rt«r«  SPcgldttr,       .......        $.-rr  ^atij. 

3reci  Siottr.        2ruib(n.        !Barben.        Stnipclnai^tcr. 
VtU|l«tiniTcn.        <3allifd)c«   fir  itgSBol  f. 

Programmes  of  Mme.  Lehmann's  Early  Appearances 


J^oftfceater, 


@oitntag  t>en  11.  gebruat  1838. 

14"  SteriMunij  im  Written  llfrenncmcnt. 


$er«anrn. 

®"raj't0'  '      «,'    x     '  '  •  ....  $„,   $t|fg. 

Die  fiinijin  fcer  9U$t,        .....        ,        .  ZiemciftUe  Wor 

^amina,  ifcre  ZtitUv,       ........  DtmciKlle  16™. 

St(l<      /^        '        '»     ........  D'tnclf<0«  <at«tr 

3roeite  i  Dame  ter  S6m,)iii,  .......  Bcmotfcllt  ifijrlna 

5*ftJ«>±!  .........  StmotfeUe 

lamino,  7>rwj,       ..........  ^,tr  B,c 

SJapogeni),  ajojrffinjet,    ........  j&,tr  !8ini6amii. 

SKono(tato«,  tin  SDMr,  ........  Jftcrr  Sam* 

Sin  oltej  9Ceit. 


• 

^ireiter  }  6e»i«*,         ........        Bnwlfelle  3inn. 

fritter  )  ............        SDtatamt  3rofe. 

^)riffter.        Sclaten.        Sefotiif. 


e«  12.  5(prii  1838. 

S"  Scrflfflung  tm  €cd[)gtcn  Sibonntmcnt. 


u<jetj,  nac()  bent  granjofifc^cn  t>e$  6ctibe 
jur  kibe^altcnctt  «Wu|tf  »o«  51  u bet 

fur  t»ie  l>eutfcf>e  33iif>ne  tearteitet  »on  l>em  S«i^ 


$  r  r  0  o  n  (  n. 

CHftttlt!!,  ?)"«  ***  Srogcn  Scoter, »«n»if(Uf  Wer. 

teftocq,  i(jt  5(rjt,  J&ert  D«t««. 

©otoffin,  q)oIijd<Sl){im"ri«, J&m  gippel. 

Cuboxia,  ft  in  c  e(iiuil;(t:i, 2>«m>tfette  tin. 

©tto'Iof,  ©otoffin*  ieittigtncr  unb  ^o)I^atter,  ....  ^ett  aitntaum. 

*atb«rin«,  ieiicigcnt  in  Uabwia'«  Dicnflcn,    ....  SDfmolffle  lelgvinj 

Cimitri  lapufin,  J&auptmami  im  [Regiment  Srtcnxistroli ,        •  ^ert  Samt. 

©amojef,  Offijicr  Im  namdtften  Kcgimente,       ....  ^etr  *ati3. 

TOoref,  Qofoffin*  »jutant,       •  *««  5Bei|mann. 

Dffljlere,  te«  DJegiroentJ  SKowogorob. 

^»fleute.   unb  fflla«fen.        ^ofbebiente.         ©otbaten.  ieiteigene. 


Programmes 


My  Grandparents  15 

as  was  then  customary,  and  all  untransposed.  She,  un- 
fortunately, was  entirely  lacking  in  the  egoism  and  arrogance 
which  characterise  so  many  incapables.  She  always  hid  her 
light  under  a  bushel,  and  she  was  talked  of  only  in  those 
places  where  she  could  sing  and  conquer.  As  her  fine  nature 
sedulously  avoided  any  kind  of  notoriety,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  she  was  only  a  little  known  outside  of 
Cassel,  and  the  more  so  as  she  very  seldom  played  special 
engagements  at  other  theatres,  a  course  of  action  which,  by 
the  way,  was  not  viewed  with  favour  by  "the  powers  that 
be." 

She  had  letters  of  introduction  to  Goethe  from  Frankfort, 
but,  in  her  modesty,  she  made  no  use  of  them,  which,  of 
course,  she  regretted  all  he-:  life.  She  sang  under  Weber, 
Spohr,  Marschner,  Richard  Wagner,  and  Heinrich  Dorn ;  she 
likewise  knew  Spontini,  who  wrote  for  her,  even  in  later 
years,  an  excellent  testimonial  as  a  teacher  of  singing.  As 
colleagues  she  had  Schroder-Devrient,  Malibran,  Pistor, 
and  Sontag.  Her  voice  was  a  beautiful,  full  soprano. 
In  spite  of  fatigue,  emotional  crises,  and  the  blows  of 
destiny,  she  kept  her  voice  in  all  its  clarity  of  tone,  its 
volume,  and  its  youthful  brilliancy,  until  her  seventy- 
seventh  year,  that  is,  until  shortly  before  her  death.  Her 
technique  of  breathing,  her  trills  and  colorature  were 
most  perfect,  and  she  sang  her  colorature  not  only  with 
verve  but  often  with  actual  classical  grandezza,  which 
proves  that,  by  proper  treatment,  our  organs  may  laugh 
at  years. 

At  the  close  of  the  year  1847  Marie  Loew  became 
acquainted  with  the  leading  tenor,  Carl  August  Lehmann. 
Her  sister  Lilli  had  been  married  to  Pauli,  court  actor  at 
Cassel,  dying  soon  after.  Emilie,  to  supply  the  place  of 
the  mother  to  the  children,  went  to  live  in  the  home  of  her 
brother-in-law  Pauli.  Marie  Loew  gave  her  hand  in  marriage 
to  Carl  August  Lehmann  and  thereby  ended,  only  too  prema- 
turely, her  career  as  a  singer. 


16  My  Path  Through  Life 

By  this  union  she  placed  on  her  head,  instead  of  a  myrtle- 
wreath,  a  crown  of  thorns,  which  was  not  lifted  from  her 
until  long  afterwards.  The  wounds  which  it  made  played  a 
part  in  my  life,  and  I  can  tell  much  more  of  them  than  of  the 
relatively  short  happiness  that  attended  her  career  as  an 
artist. 


f^oftfceater, 


ag  ben  8.  Sfpril  1838. 

5"  S3crflt((ung  im  ©ecfcstm  Stbonncmtnt. 


©rofc  romatttifdje  -ttyer  in  5 
e$  @.  ©cribe 


55r(l  itopotb,  fa 

^rinsfffiit  Suboria,   9Ii*tt  bti)  Saifcr*,  ffine  ©emafclin 

earbinal  <8ri>9ni;  ^rifibent  6c«  GonciliumS  ju  Sonllanj, 

<5(»ajar,  (In  3':it>f, 

9tt(i)«,  fci»c  Softer 


tUlbfrt,   Ctvid  bcr  faifn(W;(n  Idbnacfc, 
(Sin  Dffijifr  ber  yaMllidjra  icibivad^, 
(Sin  aCnptJcnfecroIb,       • 
grflcr      ,-  .... 

3ro«itfr  V  Surgtr  Don  Cenftanj,    • 
3)ritttr  3  ...... 


JJcrr  Bfrtfa. 
Dtmcifcllt  tto. 
««rr  Sri»3. 
^ctr.?8(i§mann. 

4«t  ©v<*t- 
ivtr  <Stub«fe. 


ftas  ben  i.  SRai  1838. 

3"  S3«rfl(ttuna  tm  ©icbtnttn  abcnntmtnt. 


bet  Xeufel 


•Opcr  in  5  Stolen,  narf)  l»em  granj6ftf(^en 
unb  ©.  SDeIa»ipe  bcarbcitct  Don  $b« 


t>on 


Set  «8nij  »on  Sieifien,  » 
SRoSttt,  ^«tj»3  bnr  SRotmonbie  , 
SBttttam,  ftin  5«unb,  • 

»aimi«ut,  iontmonn  on».  bcr  3tctm  nbis 
Vlileitl,  Ccre:noniciui.(i(l«,      • 
S5et  y.rlp|  »on  Orenabo,    • 
3fa»e((«,  f)rln|cfliii  »on  euitirt,     • 
*tit«,  tanbmob«tn  «u«  b«  -3lormanbie,      • 
(Eln  SBaffenftftotb-  bt»  7>ti«j«  Bon-  ©rtnab« 
ein  gjSafftn^etcttl  ttt  KMtf  Bon  ©tcitiro, 


Cccur    3ici(icn. 

Programmes 


«crt  D,ira«. 
3«vr  W«. 
*<«  SBdfmam. 
J)«m»lfcUt  'Pl(l«r. 
2>nuolfeU«  «». 


Slonntn.    ffrtmttti.    7>rT«|J«r.    Bauer*  hnb  S54iietiftne«. 

Sicilianifdjt  @olbat-(n.     .Rnapver.    @tal(m«ifltr.     9}ol(.    ZJimonen. 


otttag   ten  4  3uni   1838. 

Abonnemerit   suspendu. 


u    t  i  n  flu  b  1 1 1: 


in  2  Sfofjusen,  »on  ©actano 

tDtufif  »on  SKetjetfefet:. 
91ad)  tern  Stalienifdxn  eon  Swberiff  gfmettm<fe. 


V  r  r  e  a  n  c  n. 

aUbln,  ©uttan  Bon  Samintrf, J&trt  gipiwl. 

?)armii)t,  friitt  2«<4ter,     ........        JjHnoiftOt  qji(f«. 

D*min,  95etitr, .        JJctt  iDam«. 

3£  tit  I  an    Von   tdlontfort,    0)rcjimei(<tt    b««  CtttnS  ttr  Sftimr 

Don  0i|!rtii'«, $nr  Drr»tn. 

Selicia,  fdne  SRidjit, Sfmoifta«  lelgring. 

Xrmanb    >'Or»!ltf,    £Rit«c  Von  SK^cfcuS ,   BnKr   (cm  Sidrnrn: 

etmfrliic,     •       •        •        •       «'     -       •        •        >        JDtmoifrllt  £4w. 
a  (mo, 
SDlijDa, 
gmlre 
Sm«ne 


ift  in- 


ben    29.    $tai    1839. 

im  2f<$tcn  S(6onn(mcnt. 


Spec  in  3  Sfufsusen,  von  gt»uarb  ©c(>c. 

»om 


^rteonen. 

3«ff«nb«,  SSittoe  riptS  SRajafe,      •  ......  fc"SSfe  1^' 

amajill,  Opt  -SftMlttt,  ........  Semoifclle  W 

Banbau,  b&er&ramin,        ........  %m  Sm$. 

Slaboti,  SSramin,       ....;«'  .....  t">  »«*'«. 

Sri(Un  b'Mcun^a,  @eiu»t  l»r  ^ortnjitfen,   • 


Sir|te  unb  jweite  53ajab«tc,          •  •    j  gjjabatnt  ©4an6. 

6hor  btr  <8tam!tun  anb  85aj«b«t«n. 

6(>ot  b«  ^ortuaieftn,  btt  inbif^en  Sri<a«f  nab  fe«  inbif^en  9Jo(e«. 
JDie  Scene  ifl  in  unb  ect  @oo,  auf  ^er  fiiifte  SRjlabar.    —    3eit  &cr  ftantdtnj:    Set  Jtnfaiij 
teg  fed»el;ntcii  3al>r^uii6mg. 

tiftan,     —     |>e«  iBiber^oftt. 
Programmes 


fly  Parents 

Marie  Loew — Carl  August  Lehmann 
1848-1853 

My  Mother 

IF  the  year  1848  had  done  nothing  more  than  bring  me 
into  the  world,  I  might  cut  myself  a  new  pen,  like  Aunt 
Amanda,  for  the  recording  of  this  event.  But  the  date 
was  already  inscribed  in  the  book  of  history  in  human  blood, 
so  that  my  insignificant  self  did  not  count  at  all.  November 
24,  1848,  the  date  of  my  birth,  was,  however,  already 
quite  remote  from  the  terrible  occurrences.  The  revolu- 
tionary tendency  had  not  yet  asserted  itself  in  me.  It 
was  in  the  Sandgasse  at  Wurzburg  that  I  saw  the  light 
of  the  world.  I  looked,  my  mother  said,  like  a  monkey, 
for  my  whole  body  was  covered  with  black  hair.  For- 
tunately, my  parents  were  only  passing  through  Wurzburg 
and  no  one  knew  us  there.  But  even  after  a  year  the  child 
was  always  "asleep"  when  any  one  wanted  to  see  it,  and 
not  until  the  second  year  did  I  begin  to  take  human  form. 
We  stayed  at  Wurzburg  only  six  weeks;  then  went,  I 
think,  to  Rotterdam.  Of  that  place  an  amusing  scene  re- 
mains in  my  memory  based  upon  my  mother's  stories.  The 
houses  were  then  as  thinly  and  badly  built  as  now,  and 
one  could  understand  every  word  that  was  uttered  in  the  next 
house.  One  evening,  on  the  night  before  the  performance  of 

2  17 


i8  My  Path  Through  Life 

Der  Prophet,  when  my  parents  were  sitting  at  supper,  voices 
became  audible  through  the  wall  of  the  adjoining  house. 
They  were  those  of  the  three  Anabaptists,  who  were  devising 
a  conspiracy  and  agreeing  to  run  away  the  next  day  from 
the  conductor.  My  father,  who  was  to  be  the  Prophet,  did 
not  think  himself  bound  to  betray  the  Anabaptists,  although 
it  would  have  been  pleasant  to  avenge  himself  for  their 
contemptible  treachery  to  him,  the  Prophet.  How  the 
opera  passed  off  the  next  evening  without  the  Anabaptists 
has  escaped  me. 

At  Brunswick,  whence  the  opera  company  travelled  over 
to  the  small  watering  place,  Amalienbad,  for  single  per- 
formances, my  parents  first  met  Albert  Niemann,  who,  as 
a  twenty-year-old  youth  likewise  under  engagement  there, 
used  to  carry  me,  the  two-year-old  child,  about  in  his  arms. 
From  there  we  went  to  Hamburg,  where,  on  May  15,  1851, 
my  sister  Marie  was  born,  at  No.  8  grosse  Drehbahn  (twenty- 
two  years  afterwards  she  lived  by  chance  in  the  same  apart- 
ment). I  think  that  we  then  went  to  Mayence,  where  I  got 
a  cut  in  my  forehead  by  falling  downstairs.  The  wound  had 
to  be  sewed  up,  and  it  took  more  than  twenty  years  for  the 
scar  to  disappear  entirely.  Thence  we  moved  to  Lemberg, 
where  we  lived  in  the  theatre  building,  as  was  the  custom. 

From  this  time  forth  I  can  remember  much  independently, 
amongst  other  things,  our  large,  handsome  apartment,  the 
dining-room,  and  a  fearful  thrashing  that  my  father  gave  me 
for  disobedience, — a  broken  plate  was  the  cause.  I  shrieked, 
mamma  wept,  my  little  sister  howled  loudly,  as  she  could 
not  bear  to  see  any  one  beaten,  and  our  family  dinner  was 
disturbed.  Then  I  recall  that  I  saw  my  father  as  Fra 
Diavolo  fall  down  the  rocks  in  the  last  scene,  which,  like 
the  occurrence  above  mentioned,  left  a  very  strong  impression 
behind  with  me.  Then  my  memories  are  obliterated,  and 
they  come  to  life  again  only  on  the  journey  from  Lemberg 
to  Prague,  and  in  the  Eiermarkt  in  the  latter  city. 

But  before  we  undertake  this  journey  and  settle  ourselves 


&urfurftfi4*»  IK*  (icafer. 


©onnabcnfc  ben  20.  .October  1838. 

15"  <33ci:|Mung  im  <51ftcn 


$otmfd)e  £>per  in  3  Slufjugen,  na$  tern 

Sftuftf  t>on   $1  o  j  a  r  t. 
$rrsonrn. 

(Srof  TCImaOltn,     ......... 

J)it  ©raftn,  ftine  Gtanafelm,  .          •  .... 

©afanne,  ifct  Samm«m5b<$cn,  gigaro'S  95r«nt,         •        •        • 
S-igaro,  Sammertimnr  t>tt  Srafcn,    ...... 

fflfarjdtine,  «»Wliegmn,       •  ..... 

»nUn'io,   ©djto&irtncr,  ©nfannfriS  C^cim,       .... 


q)a9c  M  Stofcn, 
fflart^oto,   5ftjt  «u«  <Et»!lI», 

93«filio,  Wtafittttfia  ttr  «3rS(Jii,  ..... 
Den  Ontmaif^Sti^tct,  ....••• 
actlcntf.  Sifltr.  93auern  unb  Siuttinntn. 

2)ic  Scene  iff  auf  tern  ecMoiic  fc»  ©rafen,  in  t« 


JDcmoijVUe  Ifo. 
»eui»Ifen«  ^iflur. 
««r  86);pcr, 
Z.raoifeUe  {Bcaajot. 
$trt  £afcr. 
3>cm»if»Hc  Cfifc  Jri 


*     *     * 


I;  cr  ii  bin,     —     ScmoiKUe 


von  @(villa. 
'cO't  Oafttclle. 


ftag  t»en  i.  ^anuar   1839. 

Abonnement    suspendu. 


3  u  m    crflcn   SWolc: 


tteueii 


in  3 

nad)  fctm  Sranjoftfcbm  beg  ©cribe  unb 

iut  beibc^altfnen  3)?uftf  »on  Slbolpf)  91  bam 
eon  bcm  Jrcibcfrn  «cn  Ci4tcnf{cin. 


jtrsonrn 

3fi1o»  8»quettl,  (Sortbitor  In  bcr  icmbartdragt,  ,,jitm  tt 

Scfcifer,"   in-»«i«,    ..... 
tOiabainc   9Setgomoltc,   feint  ai«*b«tlii,  tint  ^arfum.-uft, 
Garolint,  ibrt  Jotter,      ... 
Btt  CStaf  Don  €oa«(iii,         • 
Die  etifin,  ftint  Sema^in,     •        • 
©ttrtfotl,  MlKdectttitCT,    •        • 
Zutoiti,  bt«  Orafcn  jtaramcrDiciier  ,    • 
Octmoin,  3>\na  bcv  (Stijin,    • 
Solnon,   labtnmabOira  i>ri  Coqund,     • 
tab«nmSbd;en.    g-jfirotifcer.    q5oli  jtifotbattn 
tanbicute.    Dltnerfifiaft  be«   Ocafcn.    Bt(t 


ftctr  CtrKfu. 
StmcifcUe  iBcauj 
J)(nioifcU«  ^i(lot 
fen  $«D)K(. 
2>ciueiftUe  15i». 
j^crt  grief. 
jjttr  H^r. 
S}<n  ZttfT- 


Kit  Opcr  fcanCelt  am  Gn»e  tec  Skgicrmia  I'utiuig*  XV.    ID«  erfte  lint  Dtiue  Slufjus 
in  CoqiietcW  23o&miiig;  6er  jroeitt  in  Qmlc,  Mm  SdjlotTf  Cfo  ©carcn  eon  M  \n 


in  ?an 


Programmes 


©onn  ta  g   t>cit  26.  $ui  1839. 

15"  58orf!cUun9  irtt  ©icfccntcn  Slbonrumcnt. 


9  r  r  9  o  n  r  n. 

3)cr  Qonectnnir,    ......... 

Sonna   3(nna,  fdnc  ao4trr,     ••;.... 

3)en  Dctanfc,  .......... 

Bon   3nnn,        ..........  •        • 

icporello,   ftin  Difnrt,      ........        ^(rt  (Blrntaum. 

Soniro   fflMra,  ........        Sftnoifeae  15™. 

TO.ifftto,  tin  ffl«iier,         ........        J&tu  ©lelltr. 


nucrn  tub  *  ,i  iu-  v  i  mi  c  n.     ®(rirf>i«bicn<r. 


*     *         S^on  Snan,     —      fjtrt  Sibcrhofcr. 
*     »     *     3crliuc,          —     SXraoifelle  ©ta^l,  jn>«iic 

Programme 


My  Parents  19 

in  Prague  for  sixteen  years,  I  must  introduce  my  father  as 
he  lives  in  my  memory. 

Carl  August  Lehmann  was  a  large,  strong,  handsome,  very 
good-natured,  but  often  very  quick-tempered  man.  I  have 
inherited  not  only  his  features,  but  also  unfortunately  his 
vehemence.  My  sister,  on  the  other  hand,  resembles  our 
gentle  mother,  though  she  has  her  father's  lack  of  steadiness. 
The  seriousness  and  industry  of  our  mother  have  fallen  to  me. 

Born  the  son  of  a  town  musician  at  Juterbog,  he  was 
educated  for  music,  and,  like  Albert  Niemann,  Pauline  Lucca, 
Amalie  Joachim,  and  many  others,  he  began  his  theatrical 
career  in  the  chorus,  as  was  then  usually  the  case,  for,  in 
order  to  become  an  artist,  one  had  to  serve  from  the  bottom 
up.  I  know  of  only  one  letter  from  my  Grandfather  Leh- 
mann, and  in  it  he  expresses  to  his  son  his  pleasure  in  the 
latter 's  prosperity,  but  begs  him  not  to  write  too  often  as  the 
postage  cost  so  much. 

My  father  had  a  glorious  voice  for  the  heroic  tenor  r61es, 
received  excellent  positions,  and  earned  fame  and  money 
enough  to  be  certain  of  an  assured  future.  His  acting, 
warmth,  and  effective  expression,  as  well  as  his  beautiful 
voice,  were  praised  in  the  criticisms  of  that  day.  A  brilliant 
life  would  have  been  his  still  for  a  long  time  to  come  but 
for  his  quarrelsome  temper,  and  there  were  worse  passions, 
besides,  that  gnawed  at  the  short-lived  family  happiness. 
Drinking  and  gambling  began  their  destructive  work,  though 
only  in  the  first  stages.  Careless  of  the  future  of  himself  and 
his  family  he  did  not  remain  anywhere  long.  And  yet  my 
mother  had  given  up  everything  for  him,  trusting  in  a  happy 
united  family  life,  a  hope  dear  to  her  heart,  constituting  as 
it  does  an  ideal  in  the  breast  of  every  true  woman.  The 
union  was  unequal  and  therefore  unhappy. 

In  view  of  these  perpetual  wanderings  what  would  be- 
come of  the  future  and  of  the  children's  education?  Hope- 
lessly my  mother  looked  forward  to  both.  For  the  sake  of 
the  children,  the  gentle  silent  wife  bravely  resolved  upon  a 


20  My  Path  Through  Life 

separation,  a  course  which  was  obvious  to  my  father  also, 
and  to  which  he  consented  with  a  heavy  heart.  My  mother, 
unfortunately,  did  not  have  the  courage  to  return  to  her  old 
position  as  a  dramatic  singer,  for  she  was  now  almost  forty- 
five  years  old.  Perhaps,  also,  she  availed  herself  too 
quickly  of  the  chance  of  becoming  Professor  of  the  harp  in 
the  Prague  National  Theatre  orchestra,  which  was  offered 
to  her  through  a  friend.  Be  that  as  it  may,  she  thereby 
gave  her  destiny  a  decisive  bent.  If  along  with  it  she  as- 
sumed superhuman  burdens  of  care  and  labour,  yet  it  was 
for  her  happiness.  Anything  that  I  could  say  in  her  praise 
would  be  too  little,  and  so  it  is  best  that  I  should  let  cir- 
cumstances and  events  speak  for  her. 

At  Lemberg,  my  parents  had  become  acquainted  with 
Romer,  the  actor,  and  his  family.  One  evening  mother  sat 
in  the  box  with  the  young  married  couple,  listening  to 
Rossini's  Othello,  in  which  papa  had  a  role.  During  the 
last  act,  Herr  Romer  remarked,  "I  have  heard  and  seen 
Desdemona  performed  differently,  and  the  lady  accompanied 
her  'Willow  Song'  herself  on  the  harp."  In  reply  to 
mother's  enquiry  where  it  had  been,  Herr  Romer  said,  "At 
Cassel. "  When  mamma,  thereupon,  revealed  herself  as 
this  very  Desdemona,  there  ensued  astonishment,  rejoicing, 
and  a  friendship  for  life.  When  the  Romers  settled  at 
Prague,  they  heard  of  the  vacant  position,  called  Director 
Stoeger's  attention  to  my  mother,  and  the  die  for  our  future 
destiny  was  cast. 

So,  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  1853,  mamma  sat  inside 
the  mail  coach  with  us  little  children,  I  something  over  four 
and  my  sister  not  quite  two,  and  drove  towards  Prague.  I  do 
not  know  how  long  we  were  on  the  way;  the  journey  must 
have  been  terrible,  however,  for  my  mother,  alone  with  two 
children  as  wild  as  we.  All  that  has  remained  in  my  memory 
is  that  mamma  once  called  out,  "  Lilli,  a  deer ! "  Whether  the 
impression  was  really  so  strong  or  whether  it  is  imagination, 
I  think  I  can  still  see  the  deer  feeding  at  the  edge  of  the  forest. 


Carl  August  Lehmann 

Frortl  an  old  photograph 


Prague 

1853-1868 


AS  a  traveller,  returning  after  long  wandering,  sees  his  home 
lying  before  him  bathed  in  evening  light,  so  we,  glancing 
down  the   road  of  life,   look  back  upon  our  childhood. 
Behold  all  is  golden;  everywhere  is  reflected  the  brightness  of 
happiness,  the  knowledge  that  we  had  a  dear  mother  who,  living 
with  us  in  heavy  sorrow,  yet  made  our  childhood  so  unspeakably 
happy  that  even  the  fame  to  which  she  led  us  could  not  eclipse  it. 


THE  heaven  of  our  childhood  lay  in  the  "Three  Crowns, " 
at  Prague.  The  old  front  house,  in  which  our  land- 
lord Lederer  lived,  had  arbours  towards  the  market  in  which 
there  were  stalls.  A  great,  long  courtyard  was  made  by  two 
new  side  wings.  We  had  our  little  dwelling  in  the  left-hand 
wing,  and  it  consisted  of  one  large  room  and  a  kitchen.  An 
ancient  rear  house — the  whole  place  was  once  a  convent — 
was  at  the  end  of  the  courtyard,  and  was  connected  with  ours 
by  a  new  staircase.  All  the  buildings  were  two-storied. 
The  ground-floor  rooms  were  used  entirely  for  business,  and 
in  the  rear  house,  on  both  sides  of  the  dust-pit,  were  two  big 
vaults.  On  the  first  floor  of  the  old  rear  house  was  one  large 
apartment  connected  by  a  hall,  which  formed  a  gallery  on 
the  second  floor,  on  which  a  number  of  small  lodgings  opened, 
their  windows  in  part  looking  upon  a  second  narrow  court- 
yard resembling  a  garden,  and  formerly  the  court  of  the 
convent.  My  brightest  memories  cling  about  the  big  vault 
of  the  rear  house,  where  were  stored  away  the  colonial 
provisions  of  Klein,  the  merchant.  He  often  invited  us 

21 


22  My  Path  Through  Life 

children  to  dip  into  this  or  that  barrel  to  get  almonds,  nuts, 
and  raisins,  or  to  lick  a  leaky  molasses  cask.  Once,  however, 
though  "uninvited,"  I  reached  for  a  glass  that  appeared  to 
be  full  of  syrup.  It  overflowed  and  burned  my  arm  and 
hand,  for  the  syrup  was  vitriol,  and,  in  consequence,  para- 
dise was  closed  to  me  forever. 

On  the  second  floor  was  a  kindergarten,  kept  by  Fraulein 
Blowsky,  to  which  only  children  of  the  best  families  went. 
Scarcely  was  mamma  settled,  and  my  sister  had  celebrated 
her  second  birthday,  than  we  were  both  taken  there.  We 
would  start  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  were  fetched 
away  again  at  noon.  Mamma  did  not  pay  in  money,  but 
gave  a  daily  singing  lesson  to  the  little  tots,  none  of  whom 
were  over  six  years  old.  Komm,  lieber  Mai,  by  Mozart, 
Kommt  ein  Vogerl  geftogen,  Weiss t  du  wieviel  Sternlein  stehen, 
and  the  rest  of  them,  those  charming  songs  for  children,  we 
babies  would  twitter  with  delight  and  love,  and  mamma, 
when  all  went  very  well,  would  sing  second. 

At  Fraulein  Blowsky's  we  learned  French  and  German 
poems,  dialogues,  how  to  make  bows,  that  is,  to  bend  and 
hold  ourselves  erect,  to  string  beads  and  to  count,  to  con- 
struct lamps  out  of  glass  pearls,  which  were  presented  to 
friends  and  relatives,  and  which  were  not  as  cheap  as  they 
looked, — in  short  all  that  belonged  to  a  good  education  and 
which  could  be  done  by  such  little  children.  Treated  with 
much  love,  endless  patience,  and  some  strictness,  for  Fraulein 
Blowsky  put  us  in  the  corner  or  even  made  us  kneel  on 
peas,  we  learned  much  while  at  play.  Happy  memories  are 
connected  with  this  period  of  apprenticeship,  and  all  the 
dear  little  children  who  grew  up  with  us.  Later  mamma 
taught  us  short  pieces,  which  we  played  either  in  school  or 
in  the  Ursuline  convent.  I  remained  until  my  twelfth 
year,  together  with  almost  all  of  my  fellow  pupils,  at  Frau- 
lein Blowsky's,  whose  kindergarten  changed  gradually  to  an 
establishment  for  young  ladies. 

Then,  for  two  years,  I  went  to  the  Institute  kept  by 


Prague,  1853-1868  23 

Monsieur  and  Madame  Clottu,  where  everything  was  said 
and  taught  in  French,  and  after  that  I  had  a  year  and  a  half 
at  the  school  of  the  Ursuline  Sisters.  The  large,  robust 
Mother  Superior,  who  gave  the  lesson  in  arithmetic,  took 
me  especially  to  her  heart,  and  lavished  upon  me  a  care  which 
I  requited  inadequately.  I  could  not  get  through  the  single 
and  the  double  Rule  of  Three,  and  even  to-day  I  stand  far 
below  the  level  of  these  arithmetical  sciences,  of  which  I 
comprehend  only  that  which  relates  to  household  accounts. 
I  enjoyed  especially  the  drawing  lessons  given  us  by  the 
pretty  young  Sister  Bernardine,  but  either  my  talent  was  too 
slight  or  the  lessons  did  not  suffice  to  develop  it,  and  in  this 
direction,  also,  I  made  small  progress.  From  that  time  on 
I  had  only  private  instruction — French  with  Monsieur 
Chaussieur,  the  winner  of  the  great  literary  prize,  and  ele- 
gant penmanship  from  Heir  Nickel,  a  wretched,  lean  old 
man  whose  eyes  and  whose  clothing  were  eloquent  of  hunger. 
Mamma  paid  him  fifty  kreutzer  an  hour,  and  set  before  him 
thickly-buttered  rolls  and  meat,  which  probably  constituted 
his  only  meal  during  the  day.  My  sister's  handwriting 
does  not  give  evidence  of  a  training  in  good  penmanship, 
and  neither  have  I  acquired  a  fair  hand.  But  the  poor  old 
gentleman,  whose  name  we  were  fond  of  conjugating  as  a 
verb,  "  je  nicle,  tu  nicies,  il  nicle,  nous  melons,  vous  niclez, 
Us  niclent,"  is  not  to  be  held  responsible,  for  we  were  then  not 
yet  able  to  judge  and  to  condemn  the  evil  of  bad  chirography. 
If  he  can  look  down  from  above,  and  see  me  forming  letters 
so  as  to  do  justice  to  him  and  his  teaching,  and  if  he  suspects 
how  heartily  penitent  I  am  towards  him,  I  may  be  sure  of 
his  forgiveness. 

Before  I  left  Fraulein's  Blowsky's  advanced  school  for 
young  ladies  she  had  received  a  new  boarding  scholar,  Betty 
Wurm,  a  pretty,  lively  girl,  full  of  mischief,  which  she 
originated  and  we  helped  her  to  carry  out.  After  some  one 
of  such  "merry  pranks" — it  could  not  have  been  very  bad 
or  I  should  have  remembered  it — the  entire  Institute  was 


24  My  Path  Through  Life 

commanded  to  appear  one  morning  in  a  certain  schoolroom. 
As  nobody  would  play  the  informer,  it  was  declared  that  "the 
judgment  of  God  "  should  unmask  the  culprit.  A  big  market 
basket  was  placed  on  a  stool,  and  we  were  ordered,  one  after 
the  other,  to  put  our  right  hands  under  the  lid  and  to  touch 
what  lay  inside.  This  form  of  judgment  appeared  so  mys- 
terious that  it  was  really  alarming,  for  no  one  knew  what 
was  in  the  basket.  Most  of  the  girls  were  so  stupid  as  really 
to  touch  the  object  inside,  but  I  smelled  a  rat  and  was  careful 
not  to  do  it,  so  that,  while  all  the  other  pupils  withdrew 
blackened  hands,  branded  with  the  mark  of  God,  I  emerged 
in  the  whiteness  of  innocence  from  this  highly  dangerous 
Inquisitional  test.  In  the  basket  was  sitting  a  big  live  hen, 
blackened  with  soot! 

II 

It  is  not  hard  to  get  from  the  second  floor  to  the  first  if 
one  is  accustomed,  as  were  we  children,  to  take  several 
steps  at  once.  I  should  have  liked  to  have  skipped  the  first 
floor  altogether.  The  barbarian,  Colestin  Miiller,  lived  there 
and  had  his  piano  institute,  which  he,  together  with  his 
sister,  made  into  an  actual  hell  for  me.  I  was  scarcely 
six  years  old  when  mamma  applied  for  a  free  scholarship  in 
his  school,  which  I  won,  after  passing  an  examination,  for  a 
term  of  six  years. 

Mamma  proceeded  mercilessly  with  her  system  of 
education,  that  must  have  caused  her  more  unpleasantness 
than  ourselves,  though  we  children  could  not  appreciate  it. 
Although  mamma  received  the  largest  salary  of  any  member 
of  the  orchestra,  it  was  only  six  hundred  gulden  annually. 
The  apartment  cost  ninety  gulden,  and  less  than  one  room 
and  a  kitchen  one  could  not  well  get  along  with.  She  had 
also  to  supply  her  harp-strings  herself,  and  they  swallowed 
up  a  goodly  sum, — big  covered  bass  strings  cost  two  gulden 
apiece.  Fortunately  they  did  not  break  often,  but  when  it 


Prague,  1853-1868  25 

happened  it  made  a  hole  in  our  hearts  and  our  purse.  Al- 
though the  theatre  furnished  a  harp  mamma  preferred  to  use 
her  own,  for  the  other  could  not  compare  with  its  wonderful 
tone.  Only  by  enharmonic  changes  which  entailed  much  re- 
writing and  study  did  mamma  find  it  possible  to  master  the 
difficult  orchestral  parts  on  the  simple  pedal  harp,  which 
could  be  modulated  only  a  half-tone  in  the  diatonic  scales, 
and  not  two  half-tones  like  the  later  harp  with  double  pedals. x 

In  order  not  to  expose  the  valuable  instrument  to  daily 
trips  in  wind  and  weather,  mamma  had  fitted  up  a  room 
in  the  theatre,  whither  she  went  every  day  to  practise, 
forcing  her  to  make  a  double  journey.  She  never  let  a  day 
pass  without  practising  at  least  an  hour  to  an  hour  and  a  half. 
It  was  this  inconvenient  arrangement  that  was  principally  to 
blame  for  my  beginning  so  late  my  study  of  the  harp,  which, 
for  the  same  reason,  I  gave  up  again  after  some  years. 

When  we  removed  to  Prague,  we  took  with  us  beds,  body 
and  house  linen,  silver  and  clothing — articles  of  luxury, 
knick-knacks,  etc.,  were  temporarily  stored  with  Uncle  Paul 
in  Cassel — but,  having  no  furniture,  we  now  were  obliged  to 
secure  some.  As  mamma  had  little  ready  money,  she  had 
to  proceed  cautiously  and  sparingly,  and,  under  such  circum- 
stances, the  purchase  of  a  piano,  which  C.  Muller  would 
have  let  us  have  for  250  gulden,  could  not  be  considered. 
And  yet  I  had  to  practise.  Muller  offered  mamma,  in  this 
dilemma,  a  class  room  where  I  might  play  every  morning 
from  seven  to  eight.  In  winter,  mamma  went  down  there 
as  early  as  six  o'clock  to  warm  it  with  our  fuel,  so  that  little 
Lilli  might  sit  in  comfort.  A  bundle  of  rods,  I  well  recollect, 
lay  on  the  piano,  but  they  were  never  used  in  earnest. 

The  free  lessons,  which  could  be  had  in  all  the  music 
schools  of  Prague,  were  paid  for  by  members  of  the  aristo- 

1  My  cousin  recalls  how  once,  when  he  was  admiring  her  harp,  mamma 
told  him  that  she  tried  on  it  Richard  Wagner's  passages  for  the  harp,  from  his 
operas  before  they  were  published,  that  she  frequently  suggested  corrections 
to  Wagner,  and  that  an  animated  correspondence  with  him  was  the  outcome. 


26  My  Path  Through  Life 

cracy.  Herr  Muller  made  us  pay  richly  for  what  we — 
according  to  his  view  of  it — did  not  bring  him  in.  In 
insolence  he  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  We  had  to  sit  at 
a  dumb  piano  and  practise  finger  exercises,  wearing  finger 
nets,  an  invention  of  his,  which  cost  me  many  tears.  Mul- 
ler's  bony  sister  was,  however,  almost  worse.  If  we  sneaked 
out  of  a  couple  of  minutes  she  smelled  it  out  at  once,  and 
dragged  us  back  to  the  silent  finger  exercises.  I  may  have 
been  occasionally  lazy,  indeed,  but  I  am  sure  that  I  never 
received  a  spark  of  love  from  them,  so  I  could  never  return 
it.  Mamma,  however,  showed  her  gratitude  to  the  whole 
family  quite  disproportionally  to  her  means.  Many  pupils 
who  would  not  stand  Miiller's  boorishness  left  him,  among 
others  Romer' s  very  industrious  daughter.  When  I  was 
permitted  to  leave  the  Institute,  after  a  six  years'  course,  it 
was  a  day  of  rejoicing  for  me.  I  played  Chopin  at  the 
pupils'  concert,  that  took  place  in  public  on  the  Sofieninsel, 
and  I  pleased,  perhaps  on  account  of  my  dainty  appearance ; 
a  little  white  muslin  dress  with  a  pink  silk  scarf  and  small 
black  velvet  bodice  was  very  becoming  to  me.  I  must  not 
paint  myself  better  than  I  was,  and  must  admit  the  truth 
that  I  might  have  learned  much  more  and  might  have  been 
far  more  diligent  in  those  six  years,  for  I  could  work  hard 
and  occasionally  did  so. 

After  several  years  of  instruction  from  Muller,  Uncle 
Kuenzle,  of  Heidelberg,  advanced  mamma  the  money  for 
the  piano,  which  she  was  to  pay  back  at  her  convenience; 
and  now  I  no  longer  had  to  practise  downstairs.  Instead 
of  that  Berta  Romer,  who  also  had  no  piano,  now  came  to 
our  house  at  seven  o'clock  every  morning,  summer  and 
winter,  to  practise,  when  we  Lehmann  children  were  either 
still  in  bed  or  had  just  got  up. 

Ill 

In  Prague,  we  met  the  Romer  family  with  whom 
mamma  had  become  acquainted  in  Lemberg.  Herr  Romer 


Prague,   1853-1868  27 

played  young  lover  parts; — his  wife  was  the  sister  of  the 
famous  Prague  baritone,  Steinecke.  Their  daughter  Berta, 
two  years  and  a  half  older  than  I,  was  a  good,  industrious 
child,  and  both  her  parents  and  she  were  unusually  nice  and 
respectable  persons.  As  our  two  families  nearly  always 
lived  in  the  same  house,  and  we  girls  went  to  the  same 
schools,  I  became  Berta's  best  friend,  and,  on  my  side,  the 
affection  continued  for  a  long  time.  I  was  often  told  by 
others  that  I  was  not  as  much  to  her,  but  I  did  not  believe 
this.  I  was  not  of  a  suspicious  nature,  and  mamma  had 
taught  me  to  forgive  freely.  One  day,  however,  I  was  com- 
pelled to  admit  the  truth,  and  the  old  bond  of  friendship 
which  had  so  long  linked  me  to  her  was  broken  forever. 

Little  by  little,  other  old  friends  gathered  about  my 
mother.  First,  there  came  the  actor  Hassel  and  his  wife 
Theodora,  a  godchild  of  Charlotte  Buff.  Just  think,  a 
godchild  of  Werther's  and  Goethe's  Lotte,  whose  silhouette 
she  had,  and  which  we  gazed  upon,  of  course,  as  some- 
thing very  wonderful.  Then  followed  the  entire  Birnbaum 
family  from  Cassel,  whose  daughter  Auguste  was  married 
to  Prince  Friedrich  of  Hanau,  the  son  of  the  Elector,  and 
who,  in  spite  of  all  the  latter's  efforts,  could  not  be  divorced 
from  him,  because  the  marriage  of  the  couple  had  taken 
place  in  London  according  to  law.  In  the  interests  of 
truth,  I  set  down  here  the  facts,  which  I  have  taken  from  a 
Rhenish  newspaper,  and  which  Adolf  Oppenheim  discussed 
some  years  ago  in  the  publication  The  World  and  the  Stage. 
I  hope  that  he  will  pardon  this  use  of  them. 

The  Marriage  of  Prince  Friedrich  Wilhelm  of  Hanau 
with  Auguste  Birnbaum 

Prince  Friedrich  Wilhelm  of  Hanau,  son  of  Friedrich 
Wilhelm,  last  Elector  of  Hesse-Cassel,  born  in  1842,  married 
in  London,  against  his  father's  will,  Auguste  Birnbaum,  an 
actress  at  the  Court  Theatre  in  Cassel,  where  her  father, 


28  My  Path  Through  Life 

the  well-known  comic  actor  and  manager,  Birnbaum,  was 
also  engaged.  So  many  false  reports  have  been  published 
concerning  this  marriage  that  an  absolutely  true  statement 
of  this  interesting  affair  may  be  welcome.  We  give  this 
authentic  account  of  the  circumstances  from  notes,  taken  by 
Birnbaum's  benefactress,  Amalie  Stubenrauch,  and  based 
upon  the  complete  information  which  Birnbaum,  who  was, 
as  a  rule,  not  very  communicative  to  strangers,  had  given 
to  her. 

The  father  had  not  the  faintest  suspicion  that  Prince 
Friedrich  of  Hanau,  son  of  the  Elector  of  Cassel,  had  shown 
attention  to  his  daughter,  as  the  Prince  met  Auguste  Birn- 
baum secretly  at  the  house  of  a  woman  friend.  One  day 
Birnbaum  was  commanded  to  appear  before  the  Elector 
at  the  castle.  There  the  Father  of  his  Country  received 
him  with  these  words:  "Birnbaum,  you  low  scoundrel,  look 
after  your  daughter,  shut  her  up — my  son  is  a  rascal,  should 
be  also  locked  up,  do  you  understand?" 

Birnbaum,  who,  as  we  have  said,  had  no  inkling  of  the 
love  affair  between  his  child  and  the  Prince  of  Hanau, 
replied  quietly  with  a  negative  to  the  question  whether  he 
had  understood  the  Elector's  speech. 

The  Elector,  a  man  of  passionate  temper,  was  first  taken 
aback  by  Birnbaum's  reply,  then  jumping  up  and  raising 
his  arm  to  strike,  he  burst  out  with,  "Dog  of  an  actor!" 
Luckily,  the  adjutant  entered  at  this  moment  with  some 
report.  When  he  saw  the  Elector  with  uplifted  arm  about 
to  strike  Birnbaum,  he  sprang  between  the  two,  for  Birn- 
baum, with  flashing  eyes,  stood  panting  with  suppressed 
excitement,  and  ready  in  the  adjutant's  opinion,  to  act 
energetically  on  the  defensive  if  the  Prince  had  struck  the 
blow.  A  painful  pause  ensued,  then  the  Elector  pointed 
with  an  emphatic  gesture  to  the  door.  Birnbaum  left 
without  saluting,  walking  erect,  and  the  Elector  hurled  the 
epithets,  "Dog  and  scoundrel"  after  him.  The  Princess 
of  Hanau  had  heard  of  the  scene,  and  begged  the  adju- 


Prague,  1853-1868  29 

tant  to  hasten  after  Birnbaum  and  to  exact  his  promise 
to  tell  no  one  of  the  occurrence.  Birnbaum  declined  to 
give  a  promise,  but  spoke  of  it  to  none,  except  Fraulein 
Stubenrauch  later,  and  hurrying  home  he  called  his  daughter 
to  account.  What  he  learned  from  her  in  this  interview 
was  of  such  a  nature  that  he  immediately  sought  out  Prince 
Friedrich  at  his  palace,  and  he  demanded  of  him  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  to  restore  his  child  her  honour,  of  which 
he  had  robbed  her  under  cover  of  the  most  solemn  promise 
of  marriage.  Prince  Friedrich,  confused  at  first,  soon 
collected  himself,  swore  that  he  loved  Auguste,  and  promised 
Birnbaum  that,  under  any  circumstances,  his  word,  given 
to  the  daughter,  would  be  kept.  Only  he  reminded  the 
actor  that  the  Elector,  after  learning  of  the  relations  with 
Auguste  and  the  Prince,  would  have  his  son  closely  watched, 
and  that  under  these  conditions  a  marriage  would  be 
impossible. 

"Then,"  said  Birnbaum,  with  sharp  decision,  "you 
will  have  two  lives  on  your  conscience,  for  if  the  shame  in 
which  you  have  plunged  my  daughter  is  prematurely  noised 
abroad,  and  you  will  not  become  a  legitimate  father  to  the 
child,  I  will  kill  my  daughter  and  myself  before  your  door, 
and  Your  Highness  may  rest  assured  I  shall  keep  my  word !" 

The  Prince  quieted  Birnbaum,  and  begged  him  to  avoid 
any  disturbance.  He  said  he  would  keep  his  promise  and 
fly  from  Cassel  with  Auguste,  and,  in  any  case,  protect 
her  at  once  from  his  father's  persecution.  That  same 
afternoon  Birnbaum  received  from  a  trusted  person  informa- 
tion that  the  Prince  was  resolved  to  escape  to  England  with 
Auguste,  and  to  be  married  to  her  there.  The  Elector, 
however,  had  his  son  strictly  watched,  and  the  latter  suc- 
ceeded only  by  a  stratagem  in  getting  away  from  Cassel 
that  same  night  with  Auguste. 

When  the  Elector  learned  the  next  day  of  the  flight 
of  Prince  Friedrich,  he  ordered  that  the  military  and  police 
pursue  the  couple,  arrest  Birnbaum,  bring  him  to  the 


30  My  Path  Through  Life 

castle  and  hold  him  there.  At  least  ten  times  during  the 
following  days  did  the  Elector  present  himself  before  Birn- 
baum, whom  he  sought  out  for  the  purpose  in  his  prison,  and 
shout  at  him,  "Dog  of  an  actor!  Canaille!  You  shall  pay 
for  this!" 

Through  the  entreaties  of  the  Princess  of  Hanau,  and 
those  of  the  Elector's  intimates,  the  poor  comedian  was  at 
last  released,  but  he  and  his  family  were  commanded  to 
leave  the  Elector's  dominions  within  twelve  hours.  The 
furniture,  and  even  the  clothing  and  linen  of  the  Birnbaums, 
were  confiscated  by  the  Elector.  This  violent  measure  was 
ordered  on  the  ground  that  Birnbaum,  to  assist  the  flight  of  the 
Prince  of  Hanau,  had  given  money  and  its  equivalent  to  the 
latter;  so,  in  order  that  the  fugitives  might  not  receive  any 
further  help,  the  Father  of  his  Country  held  back  Birnbaum's 
property.  It  remains  unexplained  how  the  Elector  was 
informed  that  Birnbaum,  knowing  that  the  Prince  was  not 
provided  with  much  money  for  his  flight,  had  given  him  not 
only  his  savings  but  whatever  in  an  emergency  he  could 
convert  into  money.  Therefore,  when  Birnbaum  received 
the  decree  of  banishment  he  was  entirely  without  means. 
Some  of  his  colleagues  pitied  him,  and  secretly  lent  him 
enough  for  him  and  his  family  to  travel  to  Wiesbaden.  He 
believed  that  he  might  find  employment  there  or  at  least 
be  able  to  remain  until  he  had  got  another  engagement,  but, 
through  the  scheming  of  the  Elector  of  Hesse,  the  Nassau 
Government  turned  him  out  as  "an  actor  without  money 
or  engagement."  Birnbaum  then  went  to  Prague  with  his 
family.  The  vengeance  of  the  Elector  followed  him  there 
also,  and,  after  a  stay  of  six  days,  the  Imperial  and  Royal 
Government  of  Prague,  instigated  thereto  by  Cassel,  drove 
him  from  the  crown  land  of  Bohemia,  as  being  "without 
money  or  means  of  earning  a  living."  The  same  fate 
awaited  the  sorely-tried  man  in  Vienna,  whither  he  turned, 
aided  by  actors  who  collected  money  for  him  in  Prague. 
In  his  need,  he  bethought  him  of  his  former  colleague, 


Prague,  1853-1868  31 

Fraulein  Amalie  Stubenrauch,  for  he  knew  that  she  was 
highly  esteemed  by  the  King  of  Wiirtemberg.  To  his  old 
friend  he  wrote  briefly  of  his  troubles;  and  he  hoped  to 
obtain  a  situation  through  the  recommendation  of  Stuben- 
rauch, who  was  then  all-powerful  at  Stuttgart.  Amalie 
Stubenrauch  was  a  great  artist  and  a  charitable,  warm- 
hearted woman.  She  received  the  Birnbaums,  and  not  only 
brought  about  an  engagement,  but  gave  him  the  money 
necessary  to  establish  a  home  in  the  Swabian  "Residenz." 
Instead  of  settling  himself,  however,  Birnbaum  took  the 
money  and  sent  it  to  Prince  Friedrich,  who  meantime  had 
married  Auguste  Birnbaum  in  England,  so  that  the  young 
couple  might  lack  nothing,  while  the  old  man  and  his  family 
suffered  from  want  in  the  fullest  meaning  of  the  word.  The 
Elector  caused  the  English  Government  to  put  difficulties 
in  the  way  of  the  young  people  there,  and  they  fled  to 
Switzerland,  whereupon  Birnbaum  borrowed  and  sent 
money  to  the  Prince  for  his  support  in  that  country. 

But  the  Elector  of  Cassel  was  not  inactive;  he  turned  to 
Switzerland  and  requested  the  banishment  of  his  son.  The 
Federal  Council  declined  to  act  on  the  suggestion.  After 
the  failure  of  this  manoeuvre,  the  Elector  sent  to  his  son  a 
confidential  messenger  who  induced  the  Prince,  a  man  of 
weak  character,  to  leave  his  plebeian  wife  (who  had  shortly 
before  been  prematurely  confined  and  who  was  ill  in  bed 
at  a  hotel  in  Solothum),  and  to  steam  back  secretly  to  Cassel. 
A  telegram  from  his  daughter  informed  old  Birnbaum  of  the 
shameful  treachery  of  her  husband.  Again  did  Fraulein 
Stubenrauch  give  aid,  and  he  sent  money  to  his  daughter, 
who  returned  ill  and  crushed  to  her  father's  home  in  Stutt- 
gart. Heir  von  Gall,  then  the  Intendant  of  the  Royal 
Court  Theatre  there,  undertook,  against  his  will  but  at  the 
prompting  of  high  persons,  the  mission  to  persuade  Auguste, 
Princess  of  Hanau,  and  her  father,  Birnbaum,  to  give  the 
Prince  his  freedom  for  a  money  consideration.  Both  father 
and  daughter  naturally  repelled  this  suggestion  indignantly. 


32  My  Path  Through  Life 

The  letters  which  Auguste  wrote  to  her  husband,  Prince 
Friedrich  of  Hanau,  remained  unanswered  with  the  exception 
of  one.  Just  a  single  letter  did  Auguste  receive  from  her 
husband,  and  it  contained  only  a  few  obviously  dictated 
lines.  It  read  thus: 

I  came  to  see  that  I  had  acted  only  under  pressure  from  your 
father  when  I  fled  with  you  from  the  house  of  my  ever-kind  and 
exalted  parent.  I  wished  thereby  to  avoid  the  scandal  with 
which  your  father  threatened  me.  You  surely  agree  with  me 
that  a  union  entered  into  in  madness  and  under  coercion  cannot 
rightfully  exist.  I  hope  that  later  you  will  think  of  me  without 
anger,  even  if  I  cannot  permit,  according  to  the  law  of  our  house, 
that  you  in  future  should  call  yourself  my  wife,  as  our  marriage, 
which  we  contracted  under  a  delusion,  is  not  valid  according 
to  the  opinion  of  my  father  and  all  lawyers. 

From  that  moment  the  Princess  of  Hanau  gave  way 
completely,  and  death  at  last  released  her.  In  the  cemetery 
at  Cannstatt,  she  lies  buried  by  the  east  side  of  the  surround- 
ing wall.  The  tombstone  bears  this  inscription: 

AUGUSTE 

Wife  of  His  Highness  Prince 

Friedrich  Wilhelm  of  Hanau, 

born  Birnbaum,  November  9,  1837, 

died  June  29,  1862. 

These  are  the  true  facts  of  the  matter  of  the  marriage 
of  the  actress  with  the  Prince.  Karl  Birnbaum,  broken 
by  the  misfortunes  of  his  family,  died  of  apoplexy  soon  after, 
during  a  performance  of  Die  Karlsschuler  at  the  Court 
Theatre  in  Stuttgart,  in  which  piece  he  played  the  part  of 
Sergeant  Bleistift.  In  his  pocket  was  found  a  scrap  of 
paper  with  the  following: 

To-morrow,  the  day  after  the  first  performance  of  Die  Karls- 
schuler, my  mutilated  body,  to  which  I  hope  death  will  come 


Prague,   1853-1868  33 

quickly,  will  be  found  on  the  railroad  tracks  between  Feuerbach 
and  Kornwestheim ;  may  I  be  kindly  remembered  and  given  a 
quiet,  simple  grave  at  the  side  of  my  beloved  child.  No  inscrip- 
tion is  necessary. 

The  unfortunate,  sorely-tried  father  was  laid  beside  his 
child. 

Long  before  Father  Birnbaum  died  so  suddenly  in  his 
profession,  his  wife  died  at  Prague,  at  the  house  of  her 
youngest  daughter  (subsequently  Frau  von  Ledebur),  after 
great  and  protracted  sufferings.  Four  weeks  later,  Auguste 
was  to  have  gone  to  Cannstatt  to  recuperate.  Mamma, 
who  loved  her  dearly,  helped  her  to  pack  her  trunk,  as 
Auguste  herself  was  unable  to  do  anything.  A  cough  from 
the  lungs  had  changed  the  blooming  young  woman  to  a 
shadow.  I  seem  to  hear  her  still,  begging  mamma  to  put  this 
or  that  "in  the  coffin  "  instead  of  "in  the  trunk."  After  a 
few  weeks  death  set  her  free  also.  What  terrible  experiences 
had  these  poor  people  undergone,  and  they  were  not  the 
last!  A  true  friendship  of  many  years  bound  our  parents 
together,  and  we  children  had  known  much  kindness  from 
them.  How  happy  we  thought  ourselves  to  be  able  to 
requite  them  by  sincere  attachment. 

Mamma,  in  every  case,  repaid  a  thousandfold  any 
kindness  shown  to  us  children  by  other  persons.  Gratitude 
was  a  virtue  which  she  preached  to  us  daily,  and  which  she 
herself  was  glad  to  practise.  But  what  I  mean  is  that  she 
was  constantly  giving,  and  that  she  taught  us  to  look  at 
every  bonbon  we  received  through  a  magnifying  glass. 
Only  once,  when  an  acquaintance  invited  us  to  partake  of 
hot  cross-buns  and  each  of  us  children  received  just  one 
apiece,  she  had  not  the  heart  to  talk  to  us  of  gratitude. 
But  she  asked  her  friends  to  come  in,  and  she  baked  wonder- 
ful cross-buns  herself,  and  we  children  were  permitted  to 
eat  our  fill  of  the  delicious  dish. 

Before  the  Birnbaum  family  moved  to  Prague  and  all 


34  My  Path  Through  Life 

their  misfortunes  came  upon  them,  Auguste  and  Josefine 
arrived  alone,  and  we  saw  them  every  day.  Auguste 
studied  singing  with  mamma,  who  mothered  both  the 
young  women,  though  in  vain.  There  was  much  merry- 
making when  they  and  the  ladies  of  the  Hassel,  Romer, 
Steinecke  families,  the  witty  actress,  Burggraf,  and  two  or 
three  other  Prague  acquaintances  came  to  see  us. 

Mamma  presided  with  kindness  and  gentleness  over 
our  small  dwelling,  made  the  celebrated  "Lehmann  coffee," 
and  the  Hassels  and  Steineckes  contributed  their  unfailing 
high  spirits.  If  there  were  not  enough  coffee  spoons  Auguste 
von  Schaumburg  used  the  "stirring  fork,"  which  long 
remained  a  password  'in  the  memory  of  old  friends.  It 
happened  sometimes  that  the  liveliest  ones  of  the  party 
gave  tableaux,  which  caused  much  laughter;  but  I  cannot 
recollect  many  details. 

IV 

Now  that  we  had  a  piano  pupils  in  singing  presented 
themselves.  It  was  interesting  that  later  several  Jewish 
cantors  came  for  lessons,  among  them  Leopold  Landau, 
who  afterwards  took  an  important  -position  as  the  lyric 
tenor  of  the  City  Theatre  at  Hamburg ;  all  of  them  poor  with 
beautiful  voices,  which  they  developed  finely. 

It  was  amusing,  also,  that  some  of  them,  with  other 
young  Jews,  stuffed  themselves  at  our  table  on  the  occasion 
of  the  "long  day"  or  the  "long  night,"  as  it  is  called, 
because,  as  they  said,  they  could  not  stand  the  protracted 
fast.  Let  us  hope  that,  nevertheless,  they  are  now  in  the 
company  of  the  blessed. 

Mamma,  who  had  a  peculiar  standing  in  the  orchestra 
both  as  a  lady  and  an  artist,  ventured  at  last  to  take  one 
of  us  children  with  her  there.  Everybody  respected  her 
and  strove  to  show  her  attention  and  professional  courtesies. 
Among  the  younger  members  of  the  Prague  orchestra,  who 


Prague,   1853-1868  35 

were  her  co-workers,  I  may  mention  the  conductor,  Rebicek, 
and  Professor  Halir.  Mamma,  though  most  modest,  could 
be  very  energetic  when  it  came  to  protecting  herself  from 
rudeness. 

Once  when  a  young  conductor  was  guilty  of  some  imper- 
tinence because  a  passage  was  not  played  in  tune  the  first 
time,  she  said  to  him  with  quiet  decision,  "You  do  not 
understand  the  matter,"  which  silenced  him,  because  it 
was  the  fact  that  he  knew  nothing  of  her  instrument  and 
the  management  of  it. 

Mamma  took  into  her  employ,  when  we  moved  into 
the  "Three  Crowns,"  a  little  servant  who  had  a  great  desire 
for  education,  and  who  received  for  wages  two  gulden  a 
month.  Emilie  Drahota  did  all  the  lessons  we  had  in 
school,  and  so  learned  what  we  learned  without  having  any 
previous  preparation.  She  was  a  little  "cracked,"  how- 
ever, which  developed  in  later  years  into  full  insanity.  She 
slept  in  the  kitchen,  as  was  then  the  custom.  If  she  came 
in  at  night  to  take  another  look  after  us  she  was  plastered 
as  white  as  a  ghost.  It  did  not  frighten  us,  but  we  spied 
about  and  at  last  found  in  her  bed  our  tin  dolls'  soup  tureen, 
to  which  was  sticking  a  chalk-like  paste.  We  did  not  dare 
say  anything,  but  from  that  time  on  I,  in  particular,  watched 
everything  that  she  did.  One  night,  long  after  we  children 
had  gone  to  bed,  I  heard  her  walk  softly  into  the  room. 
She  went  to  the  cupboard  which  stood  close  to  my  bed  and 
where  mamma  kept  her  silver  as  well  as  the  coffee  and 
sugar,  groped  around  in  the  paper  bag  saying  as  a  precaution, 
half  aloud,  "Why  can't  I  find  the  spoons?"  and  then  left 
the  room  softly.  I  knew  now  that  she  took  the  sugar. 
Another  time  mamma  searched  the  girl's  dresses,  which 
hung  in  our  big  wardrobe,  and  found  all  the  pockets  full  of 
coffee  and  sugar.  As  everything  always  stood  open,  there 
was  no  reason  for  stealing;  it  must  be  then  that  she  disposed 
of  the  supplies  in  another  way,  so  without  saying  anything 
about  it  they  were  now  locked  up.  When  Emmy  now 


36  My  Path  Through  Life 

tossed  about  at  night,  and  complained  of  sleeplessness  or 
her  poor  bed,  I  could  not  refrain  from  having  my  revenge. 
I  would  call  out  to  her,  "As  you  make  your  bed,  so  do  you 
lie  on  it,"  or  "A  good  conscience  is  the  best  pillow,"  which 
I  hurled  at  her  with  dramatic  force  and  intense  sarcasm. 
Proverbs  always  impressed  me  deeply,  and  so  I  hoped  they 
would  have  the  same  effect  on  Emmy. 

It  was  said  by  F.  Kliemke:  "An  apothegm  is  the  entrance 
to  a  palace;  most  persons  see  only  the  entrance."  "Who 
lies  once  men  ne'er  believe,  although  from  him  they  truth 
receive."  No  more  falsehoods  for  me!  And  so  I  trained 
myself  on  a  foundation  of  all  the  good  teaching  given  me 
by  my  mother  and  my  excellent  instructors,  without  whom, 
supplemented  by  my  own  nature,  I  should  never  have  felt 
a  desire  to  enter  into  such  palaces.  I  acted  according  to 
their  teachings,  and  did  not  have  occasion  to  fear  a  relapse. 
There  was,  however,  one  of  the  proverbs  which  I  never 
could  understand,  namely,  that  "once  done  is  not  done  at 
all." 

Emmy  was  stirred  up  by  a  lawyer  named  Linhardt, 
who  lived  in  our  house,  to  bring  a  suit  against  her  brother, 
and  she  lost  it,  together  with  all  her  small  property. 

After  we  got  rid  of  this  "Alp,"  as  mother  used  to  call 
her,  we  took  another  servant,  a  woman  who  carried  water 
and  performed  all  the  heavy  housework.  Mamma  still 
attended  to  everything  else,  and  we  helped  as  best  we  could, 
learning  thereby  how  to  manage  a  house,  and  much  more 
that  was  of  great  use  to  us  in  life. 


The  help  of  her  cousin,  Amalie,  Princess  Karl  Theodor 
of  Wrede,  who  often  surprised  us  with  presents  of  handsome 
clothes,  was  very  welcome  to  mamma,  for  it  enabled  her 
to  dress  elegantly,  according  to  her  habit,  without  worry 
and  without  dipping  too  deep  into  her  pocket.  We  children, 


Prague,  1853-1868  37 

too,  were  always  well  and  suitably  dressed,  especially  when 
we  were  very  young;  for  mamma  understood  how  to  arrange 
things  skilfully  and  tastefully.  Later,  difficulties  came  at 
every  step,  for  we  shot  up  so  quickly  and  were  so  big  and 
unruly. 

How  often  I  have  thought  of  our  awkward  age,  as  I  have 
listened  in  Berlin  to  the  good  story  of  a  ballet  dancer  of  the 
Royal  Opera,  who  said  to  her  rapidly  growing  boy  one  day: 
"Youngster,  if  you  keep  on  growing  so  fast,  God  is  my 
witness,  I  will  put  ruffles  on  your  breeches,"  a  garment 
then  in  fashion.  We  also  outgrew  everything,  and  lanky 
feet,  arms,  and  legs  showed  themselves  at  every  point.  If 
they  were  covered  up  in  the  morning  they  had  grown  visible 
again  at  night. 

Not  only  for  our  support  but  for  our  education  did 
mamma  plan,  work,  cook,  and  sew,  and  all  our  friends  and 
acquaintances,  moreover,  made  claims  on  her  goodness  and 
readiness  to  oblige,  while  many  imposed  shamefully  on  her 
strength.  She  never  rested,  not  even  at  night,  for  then, 
pursued  by  care,  she  was  not  able  to  recuperate.  Other 
people  shared  our  meals,  while  she  herself,  when  she  returned 
late  from  the  performance,  had  often  nothing  more  than 
a  piece  of  dry  bread  and  a  glass  of  water. 

Then  she  would  often  work  half  the  night  to  earn  some- 
thing additional,  for  there  was  not  enough  for  all  the 
necessities  required  for  our  education  and  maintenance. 
Mamma's  physical  and  spiritual  condition  at  that  time 
is  shown  in  the  following  letter,  a  reply  to  the  inquiry  of 
one  of  her  friends  who  wished  to  visit  or  to  live  with  us. 

The  first  thing  to  be  answered  in  your  letter  concerns  your 
coming  here.  I  do  not  need  to  say  what  a  pleasure  it  would  give 
us  to  see  you  again,  but  in  my  small  apartment  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  us  all  to  exist  in  this  frightful  heat.  I  am  speaking 
quite  openly,  you  see,  and  you  will  not  resent  my  candour.  In 
the  first  place,  the  increased  bustle  which  would  follow  inevitably 


38  My  Path  Through  Life 

upon  our  living  together  would  wear  upon  me  terribly,  for  I  am 
no  longer  the  robust  woman  I  was  when  you  left  me  last  year. 
I  have  become  so  extremely  nervous  and  suffering  from  my  many 
experiences  that  I  am  frightened  almost  to  death  by  an  unusually 
loud  word.  When  I  play  at  the  Theatre  I  put  such  a  strain  on 
my  nerves  to  keep  myself  up  that  I  let  myself  go  when  I  am  at 
home.  I  know  that  I  do  it,  but  I  cannot  help  it.  Quiet  is 
always  my  entreaty  with  the  children,  for  quiet  is  what  I  must 
have.  Moreover,  the  children  might  be  too  much  disturbed 
in  their  daily  work  and  their  piano  practise,  which  must  not  be 
interrupted  by  any  changes.  I  insist  on  the  home  work,  for  I 
constantly  think  that  I  cannot  be  helpful  to  them  much 
longer,  and  thereafter  I  want  them  to  be  able  to  revere  my 
memory. 

The  way  many  of  her  acquaintances  profited  at  the 
expense  of  her  strength  soon  made  me  mistrustful  of  people 
in  general,  and  sometimes,  when  matters  went  too  far,  I 
showed  my  te'eth,  which  did  good  for  a  while.  Now  and 
then,  a  boundless  yearning  for  solitude  came  over  me,  so 
that  I  would  have  to  force  myself  to  talk  and  associate  with 
people.  Perhaps  I  longed  to  become  dumb  again  as  I  was 
in  infancy.  All  I  had  to  do  was  to  swallow  down  a  single 
unspoken  answer,  and  silence  re-established  itself  in  me. 

Father  had  promised  to  provide  for  us  all  as  far  as  lay 
in  his  power,  and  that  was  assuredly  his  intention.  Remit- 
tances arrived  from  him  now  and  then,  but  they  grew 
steadily  less.  He  came  himself  from  time  to  time,  and 
lodged  with  us  until  it  could  not  be  managed  any  longer. 
We  knew  that  he  loved  us,  for  he  brought  us  fine  toys  and 
other  presents,  but  his  coming  never  made  us  happy  while 
it  rendered  my  mother  actually  miserable.  Aside  from  the 
fact  that  he  always  turned  topsy-turvy  our  life  that  was 
planned  so  regularly,  mamma  lived  ever  in  secret  fear  that 
he  might  spoil  for  her,  through  intolerable  meddling,  this 
place  of  refuge  in  which  our  future  was  to  be  rooted,  lie 
often  went  out  walking  with  us,  and  was  not  a  little  proud 


Prague,   1853-1868  39 

of  his  family.  Though  we  sometimes  needed  the  rule  of  a 
loving  father,  yet,  under  existing  conditions,  that  was 
quite  out  of  the  question.  As  I  think  to-day  of  all  the 
trouble  which  these  visits  caused  my  poor  mother  I  feel 
deep  sympathy  with  her,  and  understand  less  than  ever  my 
only-too-irresponsible  father,  who  made  her  so  unhappy. 
And  yet  I  recall  a  walk  with  him  in  the  Belvedere  at  Prague, 
where  I  picked  rock-roses  for  the  first  time  on  the  walls  of 
the  Fortress,  for  the  paths  of  the  Belvedere  bordered  or  still 
border  on  the  moat; — the  Fortress  has  been  demolished  in 
part.  The  Belvedere  was  reached  by  a  ferry  under  the 
splendid  old  stone  bridge.  On  the  other  side  of  the  Moldau 
it  lay  against  the  heights  of  the  Kleinseite,  continued  to  the 
Hirschgraben  at  the  Hradschin,  and  stretched  to  the  "Baum- 
garten,"  in  which  was  located  the  castle  of  "lazy  Wenceslaus." 
We  did  not  go  there  often  because  it  was  not  so  easily  reached 
as  the  fields  and  gardens  behind  the  Horse  Gate  (Rosstor), 
which  was  also  a  little  playground  for  us  children.  Since 
that  walk  every  little  rock-rose  makes  me  think  kindly,  if 
sadly,  of  my  unhappy  father. 

VI 

In  the  year  1856,  mamma  carried  on  the  negotiations 
between  Richard  Wagner  and  the  management  of  the 
"Stoeger"  Theatre  in  Prague,  with  respect  to  the  opera  of 
Lohengrin,  as  she  had  already  done  in  the  case  of  Tann- 
hduser. Wagner  finally  agreed  to  give  them  Lohengrin, 
as  he  had  Tannhduser,  for  twenty-five  louis  d'or.  As 
far  as  I  can  remember,  mother  said  that  this  price  had 
been  stipulated  for  when  Tannhduser  was  accepted.  She 
gave  him  reports  of  the  performance,  but  the  whole  of  that 
correspondence  with  Wagner  appears  to  have  been  lost, 
for  acquaintances  borrowed  the  letters  and  did  not  return 
them.  Only  one  remained  in  the  hands  of  Paumann,  who 
was  then  the  Prague  Lieutenant  of  Police,  and  was  printed 


40  My  Path  Through  Life 

after  his  death,  first,  after  the  decease  of  my  mother,  and 
the  second  time  in  the  Neue  Freie  Presse;  all  attempts  to 
recover  the  original  letter  have  failed.  The  letter  runs  as 
follows: 

DEAREST  FRIEND, 

A  thousand  thanks  for  your  kind  letter  and  its  pleasant  con- 
tents. It  is  a  shame  that  I  have  not  replied  before.  I  have  been 
kept  by  this  horrid  illness  all  winter  from  the  final  completion  of 
a  great  work,  the  score  of  my  Walkure,  so  that  now,  as  I  am  just 
able  to  think  of  it  again,  I  prefer  to  take  my  pen  in  my  hand  and 
devote  myself  with  passionate  stubbornness  to  the  finishing 
of  this,  rather  than  to  anything  else.  This  is  now  happily 
accomplished,  and  my  first  act  is  to  write  to  Prague.  As  regards 
the  production  of  Lohengrin,  I  must  believe,  especially  from 
your  reports,  that  once  more  a  miracle  has  happened,  for  when- 
ever I  sell  this  opera  to  a  theatre  I  feel  always  genuine  despair 
that  I,  for  the  sake  of  a  few  miserable  thalers,  must  offer  in 
the  market-place  this  work  which  I  myself  have  never  been 
able  to  perform  or  to  hear,  and  expose  myself  each  time,  as  I 
fear,  to  the  greatest  misunderstanding.  I  am  determined  that 
I  will  not  give  Lohengrin  to  Berlin  and  Munich  unless  I  can  myself 
produce  it  there.  If  there  was  much  at  your  performance  that 
should  have  been  otherwise  (it  seems  to  me  in  particular  that 
Reichel  as  Lohengrin  must  have  been  very  uninteresting  through- 
out, which  would  prevent  the  main  point  from  being  effective), 
yet  I  see  that  much,  and  probably  the  greater  part,  was  crowned 
with  extraordinary  success  or  this  triumph  would  have  been 
impossible.  That  Elsa  was  so  good1  saved  the  whole  thing; 
she  is  the  chief  person  of  the  tragedy,  and  if  the  interest  she 
arouses  is  not  held  throughout,  every  hope  of  success  is  gone. 
In  Breslau  the  mistake  was  made  of  giving  Elsa  to  a  beginner, 
while  Ortrud  was  admirably  done  by  Nimbs,  and,  as  the  Lohen- 
grin was  bad,  everything,  of  course,  was  lost.  Such  parts  as 
Ortrud,  hard  as  they  appear,  often  take  care  of  themselves, 
while  a  weak  character  like  Elsa  may  easily  become  uninteresting. 
Lohengrin  should  be  portrayed  as  ideally  elevated  and  attractive 

1  Elsa  was  Fraulein  Louise  Meyer,  afterwards  Frau  Dustmann-Meyen^ 


Prague,  1853-1868  41 

if  he  is  to  appear  finally  as  the  tragic  principal, — in  such  manner 
that  when  he  accuses  Elsa  at  the  end  and  yields  to  his  great  grief 
after  his  discovery,  he  is  so  shattered  and  horrified  that  suddenly 
he  seems  to  be  the  one  who  is  undone.  This  involves  a  great 
deal,  though  the  effect  would  not  be  so  hard  to  get  if  our  unhappy 
tenors  had  not  sunk  so  far,  through  Martha  and  such  stuff,  that 
now  nothing  more  can  be  done  with  them.  Well,  let  us  be 
satisfied  this  time,  and  I  am  delighted  indeed  that  it  went  as  it 
did.  Let  me  assure  you  that  your  reports  and  each  of  your 
accounts  and  descriptions  warmed  and  cheered  me.  The  wish 
that  Germany  may  at  last  open  to  me  has  been  awakened  in 
me  more  than  ever  by  this  occasion,  and  I  have  already  been 
thinking  whether  it  might  be  possible  to  get  a  passport  from  the 
Austrian  Government,  so  that  I  might,  if  necessary,  journey 
from  here  without  touching  any  other  German  territory  except 
Austria.  I  am  thinking,  also,  of  how  to  put  an  end  to  this 
stupid  state  of  things.  It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  see 
you  again,  especially  in  Prague. 

Yours,  etc. 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 

ZURICH,  March,  1856. 

Extracts  from  Letters  of  my  Mother  to  Friends 

PRAGUE,  1856. 

How  gladly  would  I  have  written  long  ago  if  I  had  had  the 
power.  I  have  felt  wretched  for  several  weeks  past,  due  to  the 
fatiguing  rehearsals  for  the  opera  of  Lohengrin,  which  often  lasted 
from  eight  in  the  morning  to  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and 
I,  on  account  of  practising,  had  to  go  to  the  Theatre  an  hour 
earlier.  Another  cause  was  some  silver  embroidery  for  the  opera 
which  I  undertook,  and  which  kept  me  closely  at  work  every 
night  until  twelve  or  one  o'clock.  I  made  too  heavy  demands 
on  my  body  and  used  myself  up,  for,  in  addition,  I  have  to  see 
to  all  the  management  of  the  house  and  the  children.  What 
will  one  not  do  for  the  sake  of  the  children!  You  would  not 
believe  how  terribly  spiritless  and  out  of  tune  I  am,  how  I  have 
to  pull  myself  together  so  as  not  to  fall  into  utter  lethargy,  for 
one  is  lost  who  lets  himself  reach  that  point.  I  was  so  exhausted 


42  My  Path  Through  Life 

that  I  often  had  to  leave  the  orchestra  during  the  Lohengrin 
rehearsals,  and  relieve  myself  by  weeping.  Wagner's  glorious, 
ravishing  music  excited  me  fearfully;  I  wanted  to  weep  all  the 
time,  for  that  made  me  feel  better. 

Within  a  few  days,  we  expect  His  Majesty,  the  Emperor, 
who  is  coming  for  the  silver  wedding  of  the  old  imperial  couple 
who  live  here.  While  he  remains,  Lohengrin  and  Tannhduser 
are  to  be  given  twice.  It  will  be  a  bad  week  for  me,  as  I  am 
feeling  so  far  from  well.  I  shall  soon  write  more  at  length.  I 
want  to  send  a  few  words  to  Wagner  to  announce  the  success  of 
his  opera.  Again  good-bye! 

MARIE.1 

The  embroidery  order  for  Lohengrin  came  about  as 
follows.  Mamma  had  embroidered  on  some  special 
occasion  for  her  old  friend  and  colleague,  Hassel,  a  rococo 
waistcoat  which  was  admired  by  every  one  in  the  Theatre. 
Director  Stoeger  noticed  it,  and  asked  her  if  she  would  be 
willing  to  do  the  work  in  spangles  on  the  costume  for 
Lohengrin ;  and  she  consented.  How  much  it  cost  her  one 
sees  from  her  letter.  We  children  suspected  nothing  of 
that,  but  were  overjoyed  when  we  were  permitted  during 
the  day  to  help  to  sort  out  the  spangles.  Almost  twenty 
years  later  we  all  three  sat  in  Bayreuth,  with  quite  different 
feelings,  and  embroidered  white  leggings  with  blue  wool  for 
Siegmund,  the  Volsung. 

VII 

It  is  time  at  last  for  me  to  introduce  my  sister,  Marie, 
whom  I  first  called  "Hitzi, "  from  which  came  the  name 
"Riezl, "  and  this  has  been  used  by  the  family  and  her 
friends  ever  since.  She  was  two  years  old  in  Prague,  and 
so  fat  that  she  fell  down  at  every  step.  I  learn  from  mother's 

!  From  Wagner's  My  Life  (p.  836) :  "  It  was  affecting  to  me  after  so 
many  years  to  meet  Marie  Lowe"  (written  erroneously  with  "e"  in  the  book 
instead  of  Loew)  "  whom  I  had  known  from  my  earliest  youth,  who  now  has 
quite  given  up  singing  for  the  harp,  plays  this  instrument  in  the  orchestra, 
and  assisted  at  my  concerts," 


Prague,  1853-1868  43 

letters  that  Riezl  was  much  stronger  and  developed  much 
more  rapidly  than  I;  for,  though  I  was  older  by  two  years 
and  a  half,  I  was  far  more  backward  in  everything. 

At  the  age  of  two,  I  had  not  spoken  a  word  but  pointed 
to  objects,  and  my  parents  thought  I  was  dumb.  I  showed 
already  my  later  propensity  for  silence.  We  were  very 
unlike  each  other.  My  hair  and  eyes  were  brown,  while 
Riezl  was  fair  with  blue  eyes.  We  were  both  tall,  but  I 
was  sickly,  while  she  was  much  more  mature  in  body  for  her 
age,  and  endowed  with  a  fearful  amount  of  temperament. 
Wild  and  ungovernable,  she  never  returned  from  school  or 
play  without  some  injury  to  her  arm  or  leg,  or  a  cut  on  her 
head.  Half  of  her  clothing  was  usually  left  clinging  to  the 
bushes,  while  her  hats  constantly  fell  into  recesses  that  are 
not  mentioned  in  good  society.  How  often  were  her  schools 
and  teachers  changed!  Riezl  was  never  to  be  found,  and 
when  she  was  caught  at  last  and  brought  by  good  luck 
into  the  room  she  promptly  vanished  again,  as  though  the 
earth  had  swallowed  her.  Mamma  called  her  the  "  Sink," 
for  she  could  not  be  held  fast.  She  was  the  soul  of  kindness 
and  good  nature,  ready  to  sacrifice  herself  for  any  one  with- 
out reason  or  request,  qualities  which  she  has  never  lost, 
though  she  has  paid  dearly  in  experience  without  becoming 
any  wiser. 

Her  musical  memory  was  nothing  short  of  phenomenal; 
what  she  heard  once  she  was  able  to  sing  and  repeat  as 
though  she  had  studied  it  for  years.  Her  voice,  compared 
to  mine,  was  as  much  stronger  and  fuller  toned  as  her  body 
was  more  vigorous.  When  at  the  age  of  seven  or  eight  she 
accompanied  from  memory  entire  scenes  on  the  piano,  sang 
up  to  high  C  and  trilled  on  it,  and  laughed  and  cried  until 
we  thought  that  the  child  had  gone  mad.  Her  great  talent 
showed  in  everything,  and  mamma  was  justified  in  hoping 
that  a  wonderful  future  lay  in  store  for  her.  My  talent 
apparently  hid  itself,  and  showed  most  in  earnest  study  and 
effort,  or  in  greater  concentration  of  the  intellectual  powers. 


44  My  Path  Through  Life 

Although  often  idle  and  ill-humoured,  I  would  frequently 
exert  myself  to  the  utmost  to  be  the  first  in  school  in  under- 
standing and  apprehension.  Then  I  studied  as  though 
I  were  mad,  roused  by  the  spur  of  my  ambition,  and  caught 
up  with  what  I  had  neglected  here  and  there. 

How  extremely  rough  and  rude  we  could  be  as  little 
children,  especially  when  it  behooved  us  to  be  well-behaved, 
I  will  illustrate  by  a  story.  Mamma  was  expecting  an 
important  visitor,  and  begged  us  earnestly  to  keep  quiet  for 
only  half  an  hour  in  the  afternoon.  We  promised,  of  course, 
and  meant  to  be  as  good  as  could  be.  Our  kitchen,  which 
was  indeed  a  second  room,  and  in  which  we  children  were 
to  remain  shut  up  for  this  half -hour,  was  separated  from  the 
living  room  by  a  big  door,  partly  of  glass,  and  in  which  wood 
had  long  since  been  substituted  for  the  lower  panes.  The 
lady  arrived,  and  for  five  minutes  we  were  really  models  of 
stillness.  Then  it  grew  very  tedious,  as  we  could  not  see 
through  the  wooden  panels,  and  we  became  audible.  Before 
we  were  aware  of  it,  we  had  burst  through  the  panels,  and 
both  were  sitting  astraddle,  loudly  rejoicing,  in  the  aper- 
tures in  the  door.  When  mamma  returned  after  seeing 
her  supercilious  vistor  out  with  excuses  and  compliments, 
she  announced  that  she  would  not  punish  us  just  then 
because  she  must  keep  her  hands  in  good  condition  for 
playing  in  the  opera  that  evening,  but  that  we  should  not 
escape  our  chastisement  after  the  performance.  We  lay 
a  long  time  in  bed,  unable  to  sleep  from  fear  of  what  would 
happen,  but  cherishing  the  hope  that  mamma  would  again 
show  mercy  rather  than  execute  justice.  We  deceived 
ourselves.  Our  sweet,  gentle  mother,  who  had  never  struck 
us,  who  threatened  only  when  she  had  tried  all  other  means 
in  vain,  administered  to  us  a  good  thrashing  after  the  opera, 
not  only  with  the  dreaded  rods,  but  with  a  big  kitchen 
spoon,  and,  for  the  only  time  in  her  life,  perhaps,  gave  vent 
to  her  just  anger.  I  being  the  elder  got  it  first,  and-when  I 
howled,  Riezl  cried  out:  "Beat  me,  mamma,  I  can't  bear  to 


Prague,   1853-1868  45 

see  you  whip  Lilli."     "You  shall  have  your  share,"  was 
the  stern  reply,  and  mamma  kept  her  word. 

VIII 

The  school  and  the  Institute  of  Music  went  elsewhere; 
a  dancing  teacher  moved  in  below,  and  a  Jewish  family 
named  Zappert  above  us.  The  latter  consisted  of  a  fat 
old  woman  about  seventy,  her  husband  who  was  still  older, 
an  elderly  son,  who  only  came  to  call  on  them  and  did  not 
live  there,  and  an  old-maid  daughter,  who,  it  seemed  to  us, 
was  not  quite  sane.  We  used  to  see  her,  for  instance,  fully 
twenty  times  a  day,  empty  at  the  sink,  her  little  wash-basin 
(of  which  I  was  reminded  in  Goethe's  bedroom  at  Weimar) 
and  which  had  three  spouts,  and  then  wash  each  spout 
separately  to  clean  it,  spending  half  a  day  over  it.  It  was 
said  that  they  were  very  rich,  charitable  people,  who  had 
no  wants  of  their  own,  and  who  lived  in  extreme  simplicity. 
Every  thread  of  linen  was  used  in  their  house  as  long  as  there 
was  a  bit  left  of  it,  and  I  recollect  seeing  the  daughter  mend 
a  woollen  petticoat  in  which  there  was  not  a  thread  of  the 
original  goods  left.  I  always  loved  to  be  with  old  people; 
this  old  lady  and  I  were  very  fond  of  each  other,  and  I  sat 
awhile  at  her  feet  nearly  every  evening. 

She  let  me  read,  taught  me  artistic  darning,  or  superin- 
tended my  handiwork  while  she  talked  French  with  me. 
She  showed  me  the  greatest  affection,  which  stands  out  like 
a  monument  in  my  life. 

We  had  become  friendly,  also,  with  the  daughters  of 
Feigert,  the  dancing  teacher,  whose  father,  once  celebrated 
as  a  ballet  master,  taught  us  all  kinds  of  old  minuets, 
gavottes,  quadrilles,  &  la  reine,  d  la  cour,  etc.,  and  other 
dances,  the  names  of  which  are  no  longer  known.  He  laid 
much  emphasis  on  extreme  elegance,  and  a  distinguished 
carriage  in  dancing,  and  imparted  so  much  grace  to  us  and 
knowledge  of  this  beautiful  art  that  we  have  a  great  deal  to 
thank  him  for.  When  I  was  only  six  years  old,  I,  together 


46  My  Path  Through  Life 

with  my  little  fellow  pupils,  had  lessons,  from  Ruciczka 
in  the  grand  mazurka,  and  as  we  were  all  girls,  the  most 
proficient  were  picked  out  to  be  gentlemen.  I,  the  tall 
bean  pole,  was  always  sure  to  be  selected. 

Mamma  desired  to  have  us  trained  in  everything  that 
would  make  us  graceful.  She  believed  that  accomplish- 
ments are  not  hard  to  acquire,  and  she  had  nothing  else 
to  leave  to  us.  I  learned,  in  my  very  first  position,  how 
useful  was  all  the  information  obtained  by  hard  work,  for 
I  was  constantly  in  demand  as  interpreter  during  the  special 
engagement  of  a  foreign  artist,  because  no  one  but  myself 
could  speak  French  well. 

Mamma  was  as  solicitous  for  our  bodily  welfare  as  she 
was  that  we  should  acquire  a  knowledge  of  languages,  with- 
out which  one  cannot  be  an  artist.  Even  as  very  tiny 
children  we  were  given  a  cold  rub-down  every  evening,  and 
were  bathed  twice  daily  in  the  Moldau,  when  the  weather 
permitted,  even  far  into  the  autumn,  with  the  temperature 
of  the  water  as  low  as  fifty -two  degrees. 

We  were  obliged  to  walk  a  great  deal,  and  had  also 
gymnastic  lessons,  and  for  the  preservation  of  our  teeth, 
for  which  end  mamma,  as  she  said,  would  have  given  her 
last  penny,  we  were  sent  to  the  very  best  dentist,  Professor 
Ebermann.  Thus  did  she  care  for  everything,  and  watch 
over  our  future,  when  she  would  be  no  longer  with  us. 

When  the  dancing  master,  also,  vacated  the  large  apart- 
ment, it  was  taken  by  a  very  large  family  of  Jews  named 
Bunzl.  Herr  Bunzl  was  the  proprietor  of  a  very  big  dry- 
goods  business  in  the  Graben,  and  had  many  children. 

I  enjoyed  being  in  the  company  of  Father  Bunzl.  The 
many  Jewish  customs  which  I  learned  at  his  house  aroused 
my  curiosity,  and  the  elderly  man  always  replied  seriously 
and  with  clear  explanations  to  the  many  questions  of  the 
young  girl.  The  reasons  he  gave  for  these  customs  seemed 
to  me  so  beautiful  that  from  that  time  on  I  took  a  sincere 
interest  in  the  Jewish  religion. 


Prague,   1853-1868  47 

In  the  centre  of  the  Rossmarkt,  the  widest  street  in 
Prague,  which  leads  up  to  the  Rosstor,  and  at  that  time  out 
beyond  to  the  fields  and  the  Canal  Garden,  there  stands 
a  stone  statue  of  St.  Wenceslaus,  whose  name  day  was 
annually  celebrated.  A  big  wooden  half-dome  was  built 
about  him,  to  the  inside  of  which  all  the  participants,  the 
priests  and  musicians  had  access  by  a  rear  door.  An  altar 
was  erected  in  front  of  him,  and  around  him  were  hung  little 
variegated  oil  lamps.  At  certain  hours,  especially  at 
evening,  religious  services  took  place  there,  or  prayers  were 
recited  loudly  by  a  priest  or  Catholic  reader,  which  were 
repeated  aloud  after  them  by  the  pious  crowd,  who  knelt 
on  the  pancake-like  pavement,  to  the  damage  of  their  coats 
and  stockings.  Drums  and  trumpets  from  the  little 
wooden  booth  behind  St.  Wenceslaus  accompanied  the 
pious  songs  of  the  believers,  for  whom  the  Saint  was  pre- 
pared to  perform  new  miracles.  The  saints  of  Prague  had 
much  work  and  were  industrious  people.  In  return  they, 
especially  St.  John  Nepomuc  and  St.  Wenceslaus,  were  wor- 
shipped and  sung  to  for  weeks  at  a  stretch,  and  praised 
and  blessed  with  fanfare  of  trumpets,  pealing  to  heaven, 
and  an  uproar  of  kettle-drums.  We  children  would  stand 
before  it  all,  filled  with  curiosity,  enjoying  the  invisible 
music,  which  seemed  to  us  a  holy  mystery.  We  liked,  also, 
the  many  little  oil  lamps  that  gleamed  solemnly  through 
the  dusk,  and,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  shone  also  by  day;  when 
it  was  windy,  they  smoked  fearfully,  blackening  the  good 
old  saint.  Small  oil  lamps,  which,  in  those  days  of  tallow 
candles,  had  to  have  their  "noses"  cleaned  with  snuffers, 
and  which  were  therefore  called  "snivel  noses,"  seemed  a 
wonder  to  us  children. 


IX 


Behind  the  Rosstor,   in   the  Pstross  Garden,  was  the 
Arena,  Prague's  attractive  summer  theatre,  a  circular  wooden 


48  My  Path  Through  Life 

structure  without  a  roof  and  provided  with  parquet  seats 
and  two  galleries,  the  uppermost  being  finished  with  awn- 
ings, which  afforded  protection  from  the  heat  of  the  sun. 
When  it  rained,  however,  umbrellas  had  to  be  used,  and  in 
a  heavy  downpour  the  performances  had  either  to  be  in- 
terrupted or  even  abandoned  entirely.  A  narrow  passage- 
way on  both  sides  of  the  open  orchestra  space  separated 
the  auditorium  from  the  stage,  and  here  were  the  entrances 
to  the  latter  for  members  of  the  company. 

Large  groups  of  potted  plants  stood  obliquely  across 
from  the  audience,  which,  like  green  curtains,  hid  the  passage- 
ways as  well  as  the  steps  to  the  orchestra.  Behind  these 
transparent  screens  of  plants  we  Lehmann  children  and 
Berta  Romer  would  stand,  as  often  as  time  and  opportunity 
permitted,  which  meant  as  often  as  the  house  was  sold  out 
and  no  tickets  were  left  for  the  members  and  more  particu- 
larly their  families;  otherwise  we  sat  with  mamma  in  the 
first  row. 

The  performances  began  a  little  after  four  o'clock  and 
ended  before  half-past  five,  as  there  was  a  performance 
every  evening  in  the  National  Theatre.  Local  farces  were 
usually  given  with  excellent  talent.  Skutta,  with  his  big 
red,  jolly  countenance  in  which  two  violet-blue  eyes  were 
more  expressive  than  any  words,  had  only  to  show  the 
end  of  his  nose  to  put  the  audience  in  good  humour.  Then 
there  was  the  pearl  of  all  local  singers,  Therese  Muller, 
whom  I  could  never  forget  amongst  all  the  dozens  I  heard 
subsequently.  Then  Frau  Rohrbeck,  Raimund's  first 
"  Rosl"  in  his  opera,  Versckwender,  whom  I  often  saw,  also, 
in  the  same  piece  as  "  the  old  woman," — Hassel,  Markwordt, 
Dolt,  Sekira,  Feistmantel,  Preissinger,  and  all  the  others  who 
acted  and  were  applauded  in  the  charming  old  musical  farces 
Therese  Krones,  Alpenkonig  und  Menschenfeind,  Bauer  als 
Millionar,  Verschwender,  Der  Mord  in  der  Kofylmessergasse, 
and  in  the  ever  memorable  Zauberschleier.  These  were 
pieces  and  farces  of  the  good  old  times,  in  which  one  not 


Prague,  1853-1868  49 

only  could  laugh  but  could  also  weep.  The  Zauberschleier 
had  a  particular  charm  for  us  because  Heir  Romer  played 
the  artist  in  it,  the  sole  and  last  juvenile  lover  part  which  was 
given  him.  Upon  the  opening  of  the  large  "  Neustadte  " 
Theatre,  in  1859,  the  dear  Arena,  in  which  we  with  many 
others  had  had  such  happy  hours,  was  closed. 

The  manager,  Thome,  soon  reduced  Herr  Romer's 
monthly  salary  to  thirty-five  gulden,  probably  in  the  belief 
that  an  actor  who  played  only  small  parts  needed  less  to 
eat,  and  his  family  might  go  begging.  It  was  not  much 
better  than  that  indeed.  The  Romers  were  more  modest 
in  their  wants  than  one  can  imagine,  and  yet  only  the 
prospect  of  his  pension,  formerly  much  higher  than  now, 
enabled  Herr  Romer  to  keep  up  under  such  reduced  circum- 
stances. His  wife  was  a  model  of  good  management,  never 
had  a  penny  of  debt,  sent  her  children  in  the  afternoon  to 
my  mother,  and  went  out  for  her  own  coffee  and  supper  as 
soon  as  her  little  housekeeping  was  finished.  The  children 
were  fed  by  mamma  year  after  year,  and  later,  also,  she  gave 
Berta  lessons  in  singing  without  pay,  so  that  the  latter's 
education  as  a  singer  did  not  cost  the  Romers  anything. 

The  position  of  superintendent  of  the  building  now 
became  vacant  at  the  Neustadte  Theatre,  where  per- 
formances were  given  only  in  summer,  and  Romer  applied 
for  it.  There  was  no  compensation  given  for  the  work 
involved  except  lodging,  light,  and  wood,  but  that  alone  was 
a  great  consideration.  The  Romers,  known  to  be  honest, 
trustworthy  people,  received  the  appointment,  which  made 
them  better  off. 

The  theatre  stood  in  a  large  garden;  seats  and  work 
rooms,  reached  only  by  passing  through  the  superinten- 
dent's apartments,  lay  in  the  rear.  The  scene  of  our  heaven 
was  now  transferred  thither,  to  the  houses  used  for  decoration 
purposes  and  the  large  open  space,  where  were  kept  mis- 
placed articles  of  every  description.  All  our  free  afternoons 
were  spent  there.  Herr  Romer  slept,  Frau  Romer  ran 

4 


50  My  Path  Through  Life 

out  for   coffee,  and  we   three  girls  romped  about  in  old 
clothes. 

We  hid  ourselves  among  folding  doors  that  were  piled 
up  in  scores,  and  climbed  up  to  regions  that  we  could  reach 
only  with  ladders,  and  were  often  unable  to  descend  again 
without  assistance.  Here  was  stored  the  big  waterfall  box 
in  Dinorah  that,  when  the  lid  was  open,  poured  forth  the 
flood  from  which  Hoel-Steinecke  had  to  rescue  his  insane 
bride,  fat  Jenny  Brenner  as  Dinorah,  who  trilled  so  long  that 
Jahn  laid  down  his  baton  and  looked  at  his  watch.  When 
the  weather  was  bad  we  did  our  lessons  there  or  crocheted, 
knitted,  and  learned  things  by  heart.  There  stood,  on  a 
little  mound,  the  gondola  from  Stradella,  in  which  Nach- 
bauer,  as  Stradella,  rowed  himself  forward,  and  we  rocked 
far  up  and  down  in  it  until  the  old  boards  cracked.  Many 
were  the  times  I  stood  near  mamma  at  rehearsal,  when  she 
accompanied  Nachbauer  on  the  stage  in  the  serenade  from 
the  Lustige  Weiber.  He  generally  failed  on  the  high  G  sharp 
at  night,  and  she  comforted  him  when  the  audience  laughed 
at  him.  Over  and  over  again  he  would  assure  her:  "Frau 
Lehmann,  I  will  show  you  that  I  shall  become  something 
great;  I  am  a  hard  worker,  and  have  my  mind  made  up  to 
succeed."  He  obtained  a  fine  position  in  Munich,  but  never 
became  a  great  artist,  although  he  was  a  lovable  and  excel- 
lent man. 

X 

We  were  Protestants.  The  congregation  of  Protestants 
in  Prague  was  not  numerous;  they  had  only  one  church 
and  no  schools.  We  received  the  whole  course  of  Catholic 
religious  instruction  at  mother's  desire,  who  believed 
it  would  do  us  no  harm.  We  derived  special  pleasure 
from  singing  in  the  Catholic  churches,  and  we  never  let 
pass  such  an  opportunity.  We  sang  all  the  masses  at 
sight,  and  were  so  extremely  musical  that  we  were  much 


Prague,  1853-1868  51 

sought  after.  At  that  time  it  was  still  customary  to  sing 
in  soprano,  tenor  and  alto  keys,  in  which  we  had  been 
instructed  through  the  theory  and  composition  lessons  we 
had  with  Muller. 

When  Berta  Romer,  who  was  almost  three  years  older 
than  I,  was  to  be  confirmed,  mother  asked  our  pastor,  Mar- 
tius,  if  he  would  not  confirm  me  also,  but  the  old  man  would 
not  hear  of  it,  for  he  considered  that  I,  who  was  only  eleven 
years  and  four  months  old,  was  not  mature  enough.  Mamma 
tried  to  talk  him  over,  however,  and  her  reasoning  seemed 
to  him  so  illuminating  that  he  did  not  resist  her  request 
any  longer.  He  was  a  good,  handsome  old  man  with  silvery 
hair,  who  made  our  confirmation  lessons  impressive,  but  who 
did  not  know  how  to  draw  out  of  us  the  least  human  interest 
in  the  religious  idea.  Mamma  did  not  attend  church,  and 
would  not  allow  us  to  imperil  our  health  by  going  to  the 
churches  which  were  then  unheated.  As  a  substitute  we 
wandered  on  Sundays  in  the  fields  and  woods  with  eyes 
open  to  Nature,  and  learned  to  adore  the  wonders  of  the 
Creator. 

If  I  have  always  been  moved,  ever  since  I  began  to  see, 
by  the  Gothic  architecture  of  a  Catholic  Church,  soaring 
towards  heaven,  a  house  of  God  in  which  one  can  pour  out 
his  soul  at  any  time,  I  have  never  been  able,  though  willing, 
to  pray  to  order  at  the  time  appointed,  sitting  with  a  hun- 
dred other  persons  in  a  Protestant  Church,  when  I  felt  abso- 
lutely no  impulse  to  do  so,  or  to  listen  to  the  frequently 
tedious,  uninteresting  sermons  that  neither  spoke  to  nor 
gave  me  anything.  One  small  Protestant  congregation 
had  for  me  at  that  time  only  the  attraction  of  some- 
thing "different,"  and  I  seemed  to  myself  to  be  a  very 
extraordinary  and  enlightened  person. 

The  religious  idea  always  interested  me,  but  that  was  as 
far  as  it  went  in  those  early  days.  People  were  so  petty, 
the  Catholic  priests  that  I  knew  at  school  were  so  naive,  our 
dear  minister,  Heir  Martius,  so  awfully  long-winded,  that, 


52  My  Path  Through  Life 

in  truth,  with  the  best  intentions,  I  could  not  make 
myself  believe  it  produced  any  impression  on  me.  I  knew 
far  more  about  God  through  my  mother;  she  brought  Him 
nearer  to  me  by  her  wonderful  example  than  any  priest  had 
ever  been  able  to  do.  How  many  have  a  clear  conception 
that  God  means  goodness  and  Jesus  means  love  and  charity 
to  our  neighbour?  and  not  only  to  the  human  being  close 
at  hand ;  for  me  and  mine  it  includes  the  animals,  who  are 
equally  dear  to  us  and  who  seem  to  stand  as  high  as  we  do 
in  creation. 

Since  I  have  been  clear  as  to  what  is  true  righteousness, 
I  have  also  seen  that  the  conceptions  of  it  as  God  and  Jesus 
are  so  lofty  that  the  crowd  cannot  bring  them  into  harmony 
with  itself.  If  the  "conscience"  was  formed  to  the  idea  of 
God  we  should  have  greater  and  better  educational  results 
to  record  in  the  people,  for  with  the  conscience  we  have 
we  are  compelled  to  be  always  in  company.  We  might 
comprehend  easily,  even  when  we  are  still  children,  how  to 
ennoble  our  conscience;  while  what  we  do  learn  is  at  the 
most  to  fear  a  remote  and  incomprehensible  God.  Goethe 
summed  it  all  up  in  a  few  words  when  he  said:  " Man  should 
be  noble,  helpful,  and  good,"  and  Lord  Henry  Brougham 
wrote: 

Implant  in  a  child  the  habit  of  holding  truth  sacred,  of 
respecting  the  property  of  others,  of  keeping  himself  consci- 
entiously from  all  ill-considered  acts  that  might  plunge  him  into 
ruin,  and  he  will  be  as  unlikely  to  lie,  steal,  and  run  into  debt 
as  to  go  where  he  is  unable  to  breathe. 

XI 

Mamma  avoided  piano  playing  because  it  made  her 
finger-tips  less  sensitive  for  the  soft  touch  of  the  harp, 
and  so  I  began  when  I  was  nine  years  old,  whenever  my 
free  time  permitted,  to  play  the  simple  piano  accompani- 
ments for  her  lessons.  In  that  way,  I  learned  to  supply 


Prague,  1853-1868  53 

the  voices  that  were  lacking  and  got  all  parts  and  operas 
by  heart,  which  was  of  immense  value  to  us  children.  When 
I  was  fifteen,  I  sometimes  took  mamma's  place  at  the  lessons, 
because  I  had  learned  what  was  essential,  and  my  ear  was 
already  perfectly  trained  for  what  was  good  and  was  sensi- 
tive to  what  was  bad,  but  I  was  less  indulgent  towards 
laziness,  stupidity,  and  arrogance  than  my  mother,  who 
chiefly  owed  her  success,  as  I  must  admit  to  myself  now,  to 
her  boundless  patience  and  gentleness. 

I  had  long  been  permitted  to  attend  to  commissions 
and  orders,  which  taught  me  the  right  course  to  follow,  to 
know  what  was  fitting  for  our  circumstances  and  how  to 
take  hold  of  life  practically.  After  Emilie  Drahota  left  our 
service,  mamma  had  to  do  almost  everything  except  the 
coarse  work.  That  was  attended  to  by  our  excellent 
charwoman,  who  should  have  a  monument  raised  to  her 
cleanliness,  honesty,  and  real  devotion,  which  rare  qualities 
I  was  fortunately  able  to  reward  richly  until  her  death.  I, 
being  the  eldest,  was  fully  initiated  into  the  housekeeping, 
therefore,  and  there  was  certainly  plenty  to  do.  I  fetched 
everything,  and  for  a  long  time  cooked  quite  by  myself. 
Although  I  was  fond  of  housekeeping  and  well  trained  to  it, 
I  must  confess  that  cooking  and  the  heat  of  the  fire  never 
gave  me  much  pleasure,  while  Riezl,  a  born  chef,  excelled  me 
in  this  direction  also.  She  cared  much  more  than  I,  indeed, 
about  eating  good  things,  and  was  also  much  annoyed  if 
she  had  to  wear  my  dresses,  as  she  was  very  fond  of  adorn- 
ment and  an  elegant  appearance.  I,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
very  modest  in  all  my  wants,  patched,  darned,  and  knitted 
for  us  all,  and  was  not  a  little  proud  of  my  housewifely 
importance. 

In  reading  about  it  to-day  it  seems  very  easy,  almost 
like  playing,  but  no  one  can  see  between  the  lines  all  the 
anxious  years  that  our  dear  mother  spent  in  getting  us  so 
far,  and  now  as  I  read  letters  dating  from  that  period, 
which  came  to  me  by  inheritance,  I  know  fully  for  the  first 


54  My  Path  Through  Life 

time  what  she  suffered  for  our  sakes.  We  never  knew  our 
good  mother  as  otherwise  than  healthy,  that  is,  we  believed 
her  to  be  so  always  because  she  never  complained,  and  yet 
she  often  felt  wretched  and  ill.  She  had  erysipelas,  for 
example,  two  years  in  succession,  both  times  in  the  month 
of  March.  She  lay  in  a  high  fever  and  had  neither  quiet 
nor  proper  care,  so  that,  later,  we  often  marvelled  how  the 
poor  thing  pulled  through.  She  was  as  stern  towards 
herself  as  she  was  tender  towards  others.  She  must  not  be 
ill,  she  often  used  to  say,  and  she  held  herself  erect  through 
everything,  denied  her  ills,  and  felt  herself  strong  in  the 
consciousness  of  her  maternal  duties  and  her  high  office  to 
prepare  us  children  for  a  future. 

The  Jew-baiting,  which  we  experienced  repeatedly  in 
Prague,  was  confined  to  window  breaking  only,  and,  as  far 
as  I  know,  it  never  reached  anything  worse. 

The  comet  of  1858  was,  certainly,  the  most  beautiful 
single  phenomenon  of  the  heavens  that  I  have  ever  seen.  It 
stood  for  many  months  in  the  western  sky  in  full  glory,  and 
outshone  all  the  other  heavenly  bodies. 

There  is  only  one  picture  that  I  can  set  by  the  side  of 
this.  It  was  on  the  eighteenth  of  October,  1911,  at  Schar- 
fling  on  the  Mondsee  (Salzkammergut) ,  that  my  husband, 
at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  called  to  my  attention  the 
following  appearance  in  the  heavens.  The  weather  was 
perfectly  clear,  and  in  the  north-east  stood  a  superb  comet, 
with  a  rather  long,  bright  tail,  that  had  just  risen  above 
the  Hollerberg  and  was  reflected  in  the  lake,  while  eight  to 
ten  metres  away,  as  my  eye  measured,  only  a  few  degrees 
higher  and  farther  south — just  above  Kienbergwand  and 
Schafberg — was  the  moon,  in  the  last  quarter.  Very,  very 
close  to  it,  as  though  she  had  just  passed  through  it,  was 
Venus,  wonderfully  brilliant,  looking  larger  than  I  had  ever 
before  seen  her.  The  beauty  of  these  three  heavenly  objects 
hanging  in  the  east  and  the  south-west  and  combined  as  a 
single  great  "constellation"  was  overpowering,  and,  as  my 


Prague,   1853-1868  55 

husband  rightly  observed,  we  should  probably  never  behold 
such  a  thing  again.  I  awakened  all  my  household,  who, 
like  us,  stood  before  it  in  admiration  and  silent  worship. 
The  nearest  approach  of  the  moon  was  over  with  the  coming 
of  day,  and  in  the  next  few  dawns  we  saw  only  the  other 
members  of  our  "constellation";  and  these  the  autumn  fog 
disclosed  grudgingly  only  for  a  moment  at  a  time. 

At  the  end  of  1862,  we  moved  to  another  apartment  in  a 
new  house  near  the  National  Theatre — Gaily gasse  497.  We 
were  the  gainers,  inasmuch  as  this  consisted  of  two  living- 
rooms,  a  kitchen,  and  two  bedrooms,  but  it  was  seventy 
gulden  dearer  than  the  old  home  in  which  we  had  lived  ten 
years.  This  was  a  new  care  added  to  the  many  old  ones, 
but  it  had  to  be.  The  former  apartment  could  not  be  heated, 
and  all  our  winter  things  had  been  twice  stolen  from  the 
attic,  because  we  had  no  other  place  at  our  command.  In 
spite  of  many  advertisements  and  much  running  about — 
they  were  found  at  a  pawn  shop — we  never  recovered  a  sin- 
gle thing,  although  mamma  offered  to  redeem  them  herself. 

There  were  pupils  in  plenty,  but  many  of  them  so  poor 
that  mamma  had  also  to  feed  them;  they  were  chiefly  im- 
poverished musicians.  There  were  only  a  few  of  the  rich 
private  pupils  who  paid  for  their  lessons  when  they  should; 
indeed,  most  waited  often  many  weeks  after  the  final  lesson, 
while  mamma,  who  had  to  count  every  gulden  in  order  to 
discharge  her  obligations  promptly,  was  often  in  despair. 
She  assisted  everybody,  nevertheless.  Horwitz,  of  the 
Vienna  Royal  Opera,  once  her  pupil,  told  me,  in  1904,  that 
he  would  have  died  of  starvation  without  her  help.  And 
Frau  von  L — ,  whose  father  was  a  colonel  in  Prague,  also  told 
me  how  she  was  benefited  by  the  cup  of  coffee  which  mamma 
gave  her  before  or  after  her  lesson,  because  her  parents 
were  in  such  straits.  How  good,  by  contrast,  were  the 
things  we  had;  mamma's  cooking  was  unusually  nourishing, 
she  used  only  the  best  materials  always,  and  took  better  care 
of  us  than  we  were  then  able  to  appreciate. 


56  My  Path  Through  Life 

So  there  were  very  many  who  were  indebted  to  her,  not 
only  for  a  few  cups  of  coffee  but  for  their  lives,  their  careers, 
their  acquirements  and  positions;  but  there  were  not  many 
who  showed  themselves  grateful.  The  majority  took  all 
the  goodness,  love,  patience,  and  devotion  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  as  though  such  had  to  be. 

XII 

Before  I  say  good-bye  to  the  "Three  Crowns,"  I  must 
give  a  thought  to  a  dear  loyal  member  of  the  household, 
our  old  cat,  that  we  took  with  us  of  course.  She  was 
spotted  all  over  and  of  three  colours,  a  cat  of  good  omen,  as 
they  say  in  superstitious  Bohemia;  but  more  beautiful 
than  her  exterior  was  her  gentleness  and  touching  attach- 
ment to  us.  She  always  accompanied  mamma  to  the  door 
of  the  house,  and  waited  for  her  at  night  in  the  courtyard, 
when  she  returned  from  the  opera.  We  had,  however,  many 
other  feline  boarders  besides  this  one,  who  was  our  "Tschi- 
tschi."  We  children  dragged  home  all  the  forsaken  animals 
that  we  found,  as  did  mamma  herself,  whenever  she  met  a 
suffering  creature.  They  also  came  of  themselves,  for  our 
garret  opened  directly  upon  our  stairway,  and  we  had  cut 
a  square  hole  in  the  door,  so  that  Tschitschi  might  go  walk- 
ing in  the  attic  when  she  wished.  The  starved  or  injured 
feline  boarders  were  no  sooner  fed  and  cured  than  they  dis- 
appeared again.  Tschitschi  was  famed  for  her  beauty 
throughout  the  circle  of  our  acquaintances,  and  everybody 
in  turn  spoke  for  one  of  her  lovely  offspring  far  in  advance. 
Conscious  of  her  high  vocation,  she  bestowed  her  blessing 
upon  us  twice  or  thrice  a  year,  according  to  her  power,  in 
the  form  of  from  seven  to  nine  babies,  which  counted  up  to 
twenty-one  or  twenty-two  cats  annually. 

Of  course  Tschitschi  moved  when  we  did  and  made 
herself  at  home  until  she  lost  her  life  by  a  fall. 

Her    daughter,   called   "Frau    Grau,"   as   she   always 


Prague,   1853-1868  57 

begged,  now  inherited  all  our  affection.  She  was  indeed 
a  real  little  person,  with  a  very  warlike  character,  and  every- 
one was  afraid  of  her  exceedingly  large  eyes.  She  did  not 
like  to  be  touched  by  others  but  would  perform  tricks, 
which  is  unusual  in  cats.  She  could  "make  herself  pretty, " 
and  spring  over  a  stick  when  she  was  so  disposed,  but  that 
was  not  always  the  case.  She  loved  to  hunt  birds,  which 
we  quickly  broke  her  of  doing  by  whippings,  later  she  took 
her  daily  nap  on  the  bullfinch's  cage,  without  ever  being 
overcome  again  by  lust  for  the  chase.  She  drank,  by  pre- 
ference, out  of  the  goldfish  bowl,  the  occupant  of  which  was 
so  pleased  by  the  visit  that  each  time  he  came  to  the  sur- 
face to  coquette  with  the  little  grey  creature.  The  poor 
red  goldfish  had  been  swimming  for  eight  years  around  the 
small  circular  reservoir,  and  when  I  think  of  it  to-day  I 
could  beat  myself  because  of  our  stupidity  and  the  torment 
of  the  poor  fish. 

Frau  Grau  was  so  dainty  that  she  would  sleep  curled 
together  on  our  shoulders,  or  even  on  our  heads,  while  we 
wrote,  gave  lessons,  or  worked. 

As  she  also  came  to  an  unhappy  end,  for  a  long  while 
after  that  we  had  no  dear  little  animal,  until  we  transferred 
our  love  to  dogs,  of  which  we  always  possessed  at  least  one 
specimen.  They  were  not  always  handsome.  Pity  brought 
them  to  us,  and  she  did  not  ask  about  externals,  but  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  places  where  warm  hearts  were 
ready  to  succour  and  receive. 

XIII 

I  have  hurried  on  far  ahead  of  events,  and  must  now 
return  to  the  old  Gallygasse  and  our  new  apartment,  in 
which  we  seemed  to  ourselves  like  princes.  The  air  and  the 
locality  were  worse,  however,  than  in  the  Eiermarkt,  but  we 
made  improvements.  The  kitchen  window  was  sown  with 
beans,  mignonette,  tomatoes,  and  every  possible  kind  of 


58  My  Path  Through  Life 

hanging  and  climbing  plants,  which  reached  above  to  the 
third  floor  and  down  to  the  first;  this  display  was  my  great 
pride  and  joy  and  looked  splendid.  As  the  wide  outer 
double  windows  remained  open  the  entire  summer,  I  aimed 
at  having  a  complete  garden,  and  it  was  an  object  of  envy  to 
every  one. 

On  the  first  floor  lived  the  sister  of  our  former  landlord 
(who  had  never  raised  our  rent),  the  wife  of  a  violinist. 
Above  us  were  the  Romers,  who,  ever  unlucky,  rented  only 
one  room,  while,  on  the  other  side,  was  the  basso  Siehr, 
afterwards  in  Munich,  and  Brandstottner.  There  was  a 
coffee-house  on  the  ground  floor,  of  which  the  mother  of  the 
composer,  Ruckauf,  was  the  proprietor,  and  in  the  court- 
yard were  shops  for  all  sorts  of  small  wares,  presenting 
neither  an  elegant  nor  a  pleasing  prospect. 

But  the  "summer  house,"  as  it  would  be  called  to-day, 
was  new,  and  the  pretty  little  dwellings  built  especially 
for  artists  by  a  stage  physician.  In  the  old  front  building, 
through  which  ran  one  of  our  entrances,  another  member  of 
the  orchestra,  the  cellist,  Wiedemann,  had  a  large  music 
school.  Two  stories  higher  lived  the  poor  old  housekeeper, 
who  ran  up  and  down  the  four  flights  of  stairs  twenty  times 
during  the  day  and  night,  and  was  called  "Obs, "  because 
she  began  every  sentence  with  that  syllable. 

At  our  apartment  the  singing  lessons  began  as  early  as 
eight  o'clock  and  with  them  all  the  others  that  were  given 
in  the  house.  But  when  Romer's  son  learned  to  blow  the 
trombone,  every  tenant  revolted,  and  he  was  banished  to 
that  little  room  which  Goethe  designated  so  wonderfully  as 
"the  chancery  for  lovers."  There  he  might  blow  as  much 
as  he  wanted  and  no  one  heard  him.  Our  first  arrival  was 
the  tall  basso,  Brandstottner,  who  was  so  extremely  lazy 
and  without  energy  that  he  neither  profited  by  nor  achieved 
anything.  Next  came  the  colonel's  oldest  daughter,  with  a 
heavenly  voice,  but  who  also  was  more  anxious  to  marry 
than  to  become  famous.  Then  came  a  wealthy  lady,  who 


Prague,  1853-1868  59 

never  paid  for  her  lessons,  and,  in  the  afternoon,  arrived 

v 

Karl  Cech,  afterwards  first  bass  at  the  Bohemian  Opera,  who 
studied  medicine  also.  He  had  first  to  help  me  dry  the 
dishes,  before  his  lesson,  in  which  I  was  the  accompanist, 
could  begin,  as  I  had  to  attend  to  the  duties  of  the  kitchen. 

The  last  lesson,  on  evenings  when  there  was  no  opera, 
was  given  to  a  very  diligent  but  very  unmusical  Jewish 
bookseller,  the  only  one  who  really  kept  up  regularly  with 
his  lessons.  Finally  there  was  not  a  free  hour  left  in  the 
day,  and,  as  I  desired  also  to  practice,  I  had  to  begin  about 
seven  o'clock.  How  mamma  at  the  same  time  got  through 
all  the  other  work  is  a  mystery  to  me.  She  was  not  called 
the  "Bee"  for  nothing,  only  it  was  not  honey  at  which  she 
laboured.  What  a  hard  life  she  had  for  many  years  without 
ever  complaining  of  it!  Women  are  always  spoken  of  as 
the  weaker  sex,  but  what  would  become  of  the  men  and 
children  if  this  weak  sex  did  not  possess  the  boundless  energy 
required  to  maintain  itself  and  to  educate  its  children? 
And  how  many  thousands  of  families  are  there  where  the 
husband  never  remembers  for  a  moment  his  duties  to  his 
wife  and  children,  and  yet  they  achieve  success,  nevertheless! 

But  no  one  mentions  the  cost  to  the  poor  women,  the 
cares,  illnesses,  sorrow,  and  misery  they  experience,  all  that 
is  simply  accepted.  It  should  be  trumpeted  through  the 
world  daily  and  hourly,  so  that  at  length  things  may  be 
changed,  and  that  they  alone  shall  no  longer  have  to  suffer 
and  atone  for  the  thoughtlessness  and  even  the  crimes  of 
men.  Although  I  have  no  children  of  my  own  this  question 
has  often  maddened  me,  because  I  perceive  in  it  a  miserable 
injustice  on  the  part  of  the  world  and  the  laws  of  men, 
which,  in  the  interests  of  the  woman,  I  am  trying  to  attack 
with  all  my  strength. 

XIV 

From  our  very  early  years,  we  used  to  serenade  our 
friends  and  acquaintances  on  birthdays,  or  other  festive 


6o  My  Path  Through  Life 

occasions,  with  duets  or  trios.  I  think  it  gave  pleasure,  for 
our  child  voices  sounded  very  pretty  with  mamma's  soft 
lower  voice.  I  have  already  said  that  we  sang  in  all  lan- 
guages. These  serenades  had  become  quite  stereotyped,  for 
a  former  actor  named  Dietrich,  called  the  "Pasha"  by  all 
his  friends  (then  an  active  participator  in  Indian  pleasure), 
had  a  number  of  women  in  his  house,  who  one  and  all 
sacrificed  themselves  for  his  benefit.  He  attained  the  age  of 
ninety-eight  and  outlived  at  least  four  of  his  wives. 

His  birthday,  as  well  as  Christmas  and  New  Year's  eve, 
was  always  celebrated  with  a  large  party,  to  which  chiefly 
artists  were  invited,  among  them  my  mother,  Frau  Romer, 
and  the  handsome  actress,  Frau  Binder,  just  pensioned. 
She  was  afterwards  my  dramatic  teacher,  and,  in  spite  of 
her  seventy  years,  was  full  of  elegance  and  youthful  charm 
in  speech  and  demeanour.  What  she  taught  me  in  regard 
to  these  things  has  remained  fresh  in  my  mind,  and  I  always 
imagine  that  I  hear  her  youthful  voice  in  certain  places. 
When  I  grew  larger  I,  as  the  better  behaved,  was  sometimes 
also  allowed  to  go  there,  and,  later  on,  both  of  us  children 
were  constantly  the  guests  of  this  hospitable  house. 

At  one  of  the  first  gatherings  that  mamma  attended 
there,  it  happened  that  Frau  Binder  read  aloud  Hebel's 
Alemannische  Gedichte,  that  mother  knew  perfectly  by 
heart.  Frau  Binder  told  how  she  had  received  the  volume 
from  a  Heidelberg  friend  in  Breslau — from  Herr  Alban  Loew 
(mother's  father).  It  was  indeed  a  pleasure,  and  certainly 
a  strange  chance  that  she  should  meet  the  only  person  who 
still  possessed  recollections  of  her  father.  At  Dietrich's, 
mamma  often  sang  the  great  arias  from  Norma,  Fidelia, 
and  Jessonda,  and  the  duets  from  Norma  with  Frau  Romer, 
who  had  been  an  opera  singer  in  early  days,  and  who  had  a 
strong  and  beautiful  voice.  Mamma  sang  all  these  things 
a  thousand  times  in  giving  her  lessons,  but,  on  the  other 
occasions,  it  was  something  both  complete  and  different 
and  made  an  ineffaceable  impression  on  my  ear  and  heart. 


Marie  Loew 

From  a  photograph  by  Hermann  Boll,  Berlin 


Prague,  1853-1868  61 

The  monotony  of  the  musical  life  of  Prague  was  broken 
in  the  year  1863  by  events,  which  I  can  best  give  in  advance 
by  extracts  from  my  mother's  letters,  before  I  proceed  with 
the  story  of  my  preparation  for  my  future  career. 

To  Herr  F B ,  Bremen 

PRAGUE,  March  12,  1863.  -3 

My  old  friend,  Richard  Wagner,  has  been  here,  and  gave  a 
very  fine  concert.  He  marked  me  out  for  attentions,  and  Lilli 
and  I  were  repeatedly  invited  to  go  to  him.  He  did  not  visit 
his  best  friends,  but  he  came  to  me.  He  is  now  again  in  Vienna 
and  in  a  fortnight  will  be  in  St.  Petersburg.  Although  he  is 
feted  everywhere,  the  poor  man  has  not  enough  to  live  on.  I  was 
particularly  gratified  that  he  still  remembered  so  much  which  I 
myself  had  ceased  to  think  of.  His  concert  was  a  tremndeous  suc- 
cess, and  I  am  much  envied  because  I  possess  his  friendship.  .  .  . 

To  the  same 

PRAGUE,  November,  1863. 

The  composer,  Wagner,  is  again  here,  and  I  and  my  pupil 
on  the  harp,  Stanek,  have  assisted  at  his  concert.  I  have  been 
much  taxed  by  the  numerous  rehearsals.  We  often  go  to  see 
Wagner,  who  is  charming  towards  us,  and  would  like  to  adopt 
Lilli  as  his  daughter.  Lilli  has  declined,  and  indeed  he  is  not 
old  enough  to  play  father  to  such  a  big  daughter.  .  .  . 

We  went  to  see  him  every  day  at  the  "Golden  Angel," 
and  the  two  friends  had  much  to  talk  over,  but  I  was  too 
young  to  recall  their  conversations  accurately.  I  only 
remember  that  Wagner  embraced  me  stormily,  and  kissed  me 
so  much  that  I  became  uneasy  and  frightened.  At  home 
I  vowed  with  tears  that  I  did  not  want  to  go  there  any  more. 
Mamma  soothed  me,  and  finally  I  went  again. 

When  he  returned  the  following  autumn  he  lodged  at 
the  "Black  Horse."  He  showed  us  the  large  silver  laurel 
wreath  which  he  had  just  received,  with  the  names  of  all 


62  My  Path  Through  Life 

his  works  engraved  on  the  leaves,  but  I  think  I  remember 
correctly  that  he  scoffed  at  it.  (We  succeeded  no  better 
later.)  This  time  he  insisted  upon  hearing  me  sing,  and 
the  result  was  that  he  wanted  to  adopt  me,  so  that  I  should 
sing  all  his  compositions  for  him.  Mother  said,  however,  to 
subdue  his  impetuosity:  "Be  content,  Richard,  perhaps  she 
will  sing  everything  of  yours  by  and  by.  Lilli  is  too 
young  now,  and  you  would  be  far  too  youthful  a  father." 

That  Wagner  made  a  very  extraordinary  impression 
upon  me  then  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  People  did  not 
go  about  in  Prague  wearing  a  yellow  damask  dressing-gown, 
a  red  or  pink  cravat,  and  a  big  circular  black  velvet  cloak 
lined  with  pink  satin  (which  he  wore  at  the  rehearsals), 
so  I  stared  and  marvelled.  But  what  he  seemed  to  me  then 
as  a  man  he  remained  to  me  always.  From  that  time  I 
knew  his  eyes  and  his  voice  and  never  forgot  them.  What 
he  gave  me  even  then,  in  his  music  and  his  words,  made  an 
indelible  impression  that  took  deep  hold  on  me;  everything 
of  his  that  I  heard  clung  to  me,  for  all  had  sunk  far  into  my 
youthful  spirit  and  memory. 

And  to-day  when  I  hear  those  compositions  which  I 
heard  then  in  Prague,  I  am  still  under  the  influence  of 
the  first  childish  impression.  It  was  a  revelation  such  as  sel- 
dom comes  to  children.  Of  course  I  was  taken  to  all  the  re- 
hearsals, and  so  every  note,  every  rhythm,  every  tempo 
sounds  in  my  ears  to-day  as  it  did  then.  My  recollections 
are  as  fresh  as  though  it  had  happened  yesterday.  The  final 
organ-like  fugue  in  the  Faust  Ouverture  never  again  seemed  to 
me  so  glorious,  never  have  I  heard  the  "Ride  of  the  Valkyries  " 
so  rhythmical  as  then  when  Wagner  himself  studied  each 
instrument  by  itself.  He  did  not  take  the  tempo  as  fast  as 
it  is  universally  done,  but  he  emphasised  the  rhythm  much 
more.  How  could  my  young  heart  be  so  powerfully  moved 
by  the  motif  of  "  Love  and  Yearning  "  in  the  Vorspiel  to 
Tristan!  I  knew  nothing  then  as  yet  about  Tristan  und 
Isolde,  but  I  felt  that  what  so  worked  upon  me  must  be  some- 


Prague,  1853-1868  63 

thing  great  and  vital.  This  first  impresion  determined 
much  in  my  life,  for  it  awoke  in  me  a  desire  for  mighty  art 
and  profound  expression.  Unfortunately,  I  did  not  learn 
until  much  later  that  an  entire  lifetime  is  not  sufficient  for 
the  study  of  the  technique  of  this  art  and  of  the  expression 
of  spiritual  emotions. 

XV 

I  have  taken  wing  already  to  Tristan  und  Isolde,  thereby 
reaching  the  highest  pinnacle  of  our  modern  music  and 
operatic  ideals,  and  must  return  to  earth,  in  order  that, 
rung  by  rung,  I  may  climb  the  Jacob's  ladder  of  art,  trying 
my  strength  cautiously  on  every  step  in  preparation  for 
the  next,  that  I  may  surely  if  slowly  reach  my  goal. 

So  I  shall  lead  the  indulgent  reader  back  to  the  Ursuline 
Convent,  to  a  tiny  little  old  nun,  Mother  Angela,  the  main- 
spring of  our  earliest  children's  comedies.  She  was  the 
female  maitre  de  plaisir  of  the  convent,  which,  through 
its  excellent  school,  was  in  communication  with  all  the  other 
kindergartens  and  institutes  for  girls.  Mother  Angela 
tinkled  a  little  on  the  harp,  and  mamma  had  to  give  her  a 
lesson  whenever  she  could  find  the  time.  The  convent 
owned  a  Parisian  instrument  which  Marie  Antoinette  had 
presented,  and  which  she  herself  had  played  on.  Mother 
Angela  seemed  very  gay  and  familiar  with  the  world.  Al- 
though the  nuns  were  strictly  forbidden  to  look  out  of  the 
window,  she  watched  everybody  from  there,  as  she  herself 
admitted,  and  knew  more  about  their  lots  than  many  who 
were  out  in  the  midst  of  life.  She  questioned  my  mother, 
who  was  never  inclined  to  gossip,  about  everything  concern- 
ing the  theatre  and  its  members,  about  which  she  was  crazy, 
and  she  also  arranged  for  comedies  and  dances  whenever  it 
was  possible.  In  return,  she  told  mamma  of  all  the  scandals 
and  quarrels  in  the  convent,  and  the  pert  things  she  con- 
stantly said  to  the  nuns.  I  had  also  to  go  often  and  dance 


64  My  Path  Through  Life 

for  her  the  Madrilena  and  El  Ole,  which  Pepita  di  Oliva — 
a  Spanish  dancer,  who  had  just  made  an  appearance  in 
Prague  and  set  people  mad  about  her — had  introduced,  and 
which  I  imitated,  not  too  awkwardly,  receiving  as  a  reward 
cakes,  sweets,  and  pictures  of  the  saints. 

I  can  still  remember  the  very  first  piece  which  we  pro- 
duced there;  it  was  acted  by  only  two  persons.  Little 
seven-year-old  Satori  sat,  as  master  of  the  house,  in  dressing- 
gown,  cap,  and  slippers  in  a  small  easy  chair,  with  a  big  pair 
of  spectacles  on  his  little  nose  and  a  long  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
and  repeated  a  string  of  verses  that  had  the  refrain, 

So,  still  sits  the  wife  and  knits. 

Whereupon  I,  as  the  housewife,  suitably  dressed  up,  and 
working  at  a  huge  knitted  stocking,  also  recited  some  verses, 
and  answered  him  with  the  refrain, 

No,  still  sits  the  man  and  smokes! 

which  would  be  just  as  true  to-day. 

What  we  performed  there  later  I  have  forgotten.  But 
in  1903,  when  I  went  to  Prague  and  hunted. up  all  the  haunts 
of  our  childhood,  I  visited  the  Ursuline  Convent  and  en- 
quired for  my  old  instructresses,  of  whom  only  Sister,  now 
Mother,  Bernardine  still  lived.  I  requested  that  she  would 
come  down  to  see  me,  and  without  asking  for  my  name, 
some  one  went  to  fetch  her.  I  waited  in  a  small  vaulted 
room,  dimly  lighted  by  the  approaching  twilight,  from  which 
I  could  look  into  a  large  hall,  where  many  boarding  scholars, 
silently  waited  upon  by  nuns,  were  eating  supper  at  a  long 
table.  It  was  dark  there  also.  Sometimes  a  black,  silent 
shadow  glided  by  me.  As  I  waited  a  long  time,  I  feared  that 
I  might  have  been  forgotten,  and  I  enquired  for  Mother 
Bernardine  of  two  of  the  black,  flitting  forms,  and  whether 
I  had  been  announced.  They  looked  at  me  as  though  they 
were  imbeciles,  and  disappeared  without  a  word.  It  became 


Prague,   1853-1868  65 

steadily  darker  and  gloomier  without  and  within.  At  last 
there  was  a  light  step  at  the  door.  I  turned  around  and 
saw  or  felt,  rather,  a  small,  feeble  creature,  and  before  me  stood 
a  totally  strange  "Mother  Bernardine. "  It  had  grown  so 
dark  in  the  room  that  I  did  not  recognise  her,  and  she  could 
not  distinguish  me.  After  the  first  greetings  between  two 
women  who  did  not  know  each  other,  she  groped  about  for 
a  long  while,  trying  to  discover  who  I  might  be — the  voice 
seemed  familiar  to  her.  Almost  forty  years  stretched  be- 
tween us.  At  last  I  told  her  my  name,  which  she  repeated 
softly  after  me,  as  though  transported,  "Lilli  Lehmann!" 
She  signed  me  with  the  cross,  kissed  me  on  the  forehead, 
and  began  to  recollect  everything.  She  knew  my  position 
in  the  world;  in  recalling  my  childhood  she  may  likewise 
have  remembered  her  own  lost  youth.  She,  who  had  once 
been  so  pretty  and  healthy,  was  scarcely  more  than  her 
shadow,  and  I  should  never  have  recognised  her  again. 
She  fitted  in  with  the  constantly  increasing  dusk  as  though 
it  were  the  expiring  light  of  her  own  life.  Heavy  drops  fell 
from  the  eyes  of  us  both,  that  now  could  hardly  discern 
anything,  and  sadly  we  said  farewell.  I  had  entreated  her 
to  have  her  charges  taught  in  class  how  best  to  protect  dumb 
animals,  and  she  wrote  me  a  few  lines  to  thank  me  for  the 
requisite  books,  papers,  and  my  portrait.  But  when  I 
returned  two  years  later  and  asked  to  see  her,  the  dear 
shadow  had  already  taken  flight. 

A  memory  sometimes  breathes  through  my  songs,  the 
perfume  of  as  poetical  a  little  spot  as  I  have  ever  known. 
It  is  Prague's  ancient  Jewish  cemetery,  situated  in  the  midst 
of  the  Ghetto,  close  to  the  oldest  synagogue,  which  is  called 
the  "Alt  Schul."  As  a  fact  we  seldom  went  to  that  neigh- 
bourhood, but  when  friends  or  acquaintances  visited  the 
city,  we  took  them  to  this  out-of-the-way  part  of  Prague- 
of-the-hundred-towers.  In  spring,  however,  we  girls  did 
find  the  way  thither.  The  little  resting  place  was  then  sown 
with  violets,  which  gleamed  from  their  green  leaves  out 


66  My  Path  Through  Life 

from  under  the  big  gravestones  that  had  fallen  at  all  angles 
one  upon  another.  It  was  a  picture,  replete  with  poetry, 
fragrance,  and  peace.  The  old  Jews,  long  since  turned  to 
dust,  who  slept  below,  had  no  further  share  in  the  thought 
of  death ;  they  had  passed  into  the  peaceful,  perfumed  life  of 
the  blue  violet  and  the  ancient  elder  bushes.  Once  upon  a 
time,  when  they  were  buried  here,  they  lay  packed  tightly 
together,  just  as  they  had  been  forced  to  occupy  the  most 
contracted  spaces  in  life,  in  their  narrow  Ghetto  lodgings, 
where  often  three  to  four  families,  separated  from  one 
another  only  by  chalked  lines,  made  their  home  in  a  single 
room.  When  I,  divested  of  all  childish  ingenuousness,  saw 
this  quarter  some  years  ago,  there  were  left  standing  only  a 
couple  of  small  forlorn  tablets,  ready  to  crumble  to  pieces. 
Everything  else  was  gone,  levelled  to  the  ground,  which, 
as  all  along  the  lower  city  on  the  Moldau,  was  to  be  raised 
several  metres.  However,  these  poor  stones  were  eloquent 
enough  of  lives,  unfit  for  men,  lived  in  patience  and  in  misery 
and  endured  with  a  fanatical  faith.  With  a  shudder,  I 
turned  away  from  this  enclosure,  once  so  blooming,  that  still 
remains,  of  the  little  forsaken  cemetery.  But  the  memory 
of  its  blue-violet  eyes  will  nourish  in  the  future,  as  in  the 
past,  poetical  sentiment  in  friendly  hearts. 

XVI 

The  Schwestka  Theatre 

Whoever  would  be  famous  had  to  begin  his  career  in  the 
St.  Nicholas  Theatre,  another  cloister  in  which  "play-acting" 
was  fostered.  The  cloister  really  had  been  closed  by  Joseph 
II,  and,  for  a  short  time,  Mass  was  celebrated  only  in  the  old 
church ;  but  it  seemed  that  all  the  families  into  whose  hands 
the  monkless  cloister  had  come,  by  purchase  or  inheritance, 
continued  to  follow  this  art.  It  is  said  that  Schikaneder 
made  his  appearance  there,  and  it  is  possible  that  Mozart's 


Prague,  1853-1868  67 

foot  consecrated  the  little  spot,  but  that  has  not  been  posi- 
tively ascertained. 

When  I  applied  for  an  engagement  at  this  private  theatre, 
the  former  cloister,  now  converted  into  a  dwelling,  was  in  the 
hands  of  a  family  named  Schwestka,  after  whom  the  little 
theatre  was  called  the  "Schwestka"  Theatre.  The  old 
director  had  married,  for  his  second  wife,  a  very  fat  and 
very  pretty  woman,  who  managed  so  to  change  the  pronun- 
ciation of  the  most  familiar  words  that  it  seemed  frequently 
as  though  one  were  listening  to  a  foreign  language.  But,  as 
the  way  to  the  distribution  of  roles  by  the  director  lay 
through  the  heart  of  his  wife,  one  had  to  try  to  win  in  some 
fashion  that  of  the  pretty,  fat  little  daughter  Pepi,  and  one 
had  to  know  how  to  coax  even  the  fat  old  cook,  Baby,  who 
ushered  one  in,  if  all  was  to  succeed  as  one  desired. 

The  "Herr  Director"  and  "Frau  Director"  did  not  act, 
although  there  was  nothing  in  the  contracts  to  hinder  them. 
In  their  place  the  son  of  the  first  marriage,  called  Karl,  who 
was  no  longer  young,  acted  the  intriguing  parts.  He  was 
without  talent  and  had  a  bad  defect  of  speech.  He  was,  in 
addition,  superintendent,  scene  shifter,  decorative  painter, 
master  mechanic,  and  lamp  cleaner — vocations  to  which, 
later,  we  all  devoted  ourselves  while  there.  He  had  his 
hands  full,  accordingly,  when  he  "did"  Mephisto  or  some 
other  big  part  at  night.  It  is  not  strange  that  he  was  not 
always  perfect  in  his  r61es,  and  that  he  inserted  phrases  that 
were  overheard  by  his  partner,  and  sometimes  led  to  the 
most  ridiculous  scenes  in  the  grandest  tragedies.  The  scenic 
artist,  prompter,  and  manager  was  a  little,  humpbacked 
official  by  the  name  of  Wasserreich,  who  was  only  free  late 
in  the  evening  on  Saturdays  and  Sundays.  Performances 
were  on  Sundays  only. 

About  this  directorate  the  talent  grouped  itself  in  cliques, 
and  in  the  little  miniature  theatre  there  was  greater  intriguing 
than  at  the  National  Theatre,  but  it  was  of  great  service  to  us. 
When  I,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  applied  for  an  engagement,  I 


68  My  Path  Through  Life 

had,  of  course,  to  give  a  proof  of  my  ability.  Frau  Binder, 
with  whom  I  was  now  to  study  all  the  parts  played  there,  ad- 
vised a  scene  of  Franziska's  from  Minna  von  Barnhelm,  which 
I  "went  at"  with  enthusiasm.  Frau  Binder  had  gone  over 
it  with  me  several  times,  and  coached  me  admirably,  but 
when  I  began  the  rehearsal  one  day,  stood  for  the  first  time 
on  the  little  stage,  and  the  moment  came  to  let  myself  go, 
I  could  not  think  of  a  word  or  syllable  of  my  part.  And  I 
had  studied  it  so  hard!  That  was  the  first  disappointment, 
the  first  bitter  experience,  namely,  that  at  home  one  might 
believe  himself  sure  of  everything,  but  that,  in  a  strange 
place,  before  strange  people  and  with  new  acoustics,  be  so 
affected  that  not  a  word  would  come  of  what  was  thought 
to  be  at  command,  and  one  might  run  away  weeping,  never 
to  make  the  attempt  again.  With  tears  and  sobs  I  had  to 
excuse  myself  to  the  manager,  and  at  first,  even  after  several 
repetitions,  I  recited  my  scene  with  many  mistakes  and  with- 
out the  least  expression.  If  it  had  not  been  for  mamma's 
sake,  I  am  convinced  that  I  would  have  been  turned  away 
as  useless,  even  from  this  private  theatre.  However,  to  my 
intense  surprise,  I  was  found  worthy.  At  first,  only  very 
small  subordinate  parts  were  assigned  me,  which  one  could 
learn  between  one  Sunday  and  the  following.  Preference 
was  given  to  romantic  pieces  or  classical  tragedies,  in  which 
Karl  Schwestka  desired  to  scintillate,  but  Kotzebue  also 
was  much  acted,  as,  for  instance  his  Vom  Juristentag,  I 
playing  the  Austrian  maid-servant,  Die  beiden  Helden,  and 
many  other  plays.  There  was  a  struggle  over  every  part, 
as  the  talent  was  abundant,  and  the  injustices  committed 
were  still  more  considerable. 

When  I  had  acquired  a  little  ease,  and  had  studied  care- 
fully a  number  of  parts  with  Frau  Binder,  some  pupils  of  my 
mother  had  also  progressed  to  a  point  where  they  could  at- 
tempt the  "world  signifying"  boards  .of  the  Schwestka  The- 
atre, so  farces  and  little  opera  scenes  were  given.  Among 
these  pupils  was  a  "juvenile,"  Marie  Walther,  the  dish- 


Prague,  1853-1868  69 

M 

•wiping  basso,  Karl  Cech,  brother  of  the  Bohemian  conductor 
Adolf  Cech,  whose  parents  (they  were  teachers)  I  had  known 
in  the  country,  Horwitz,  the  baritone,  who  was  subsequently 
at  the  Vienna  Court  Opera,  the  young  tenor  Cassowitz, 
whom  we  immediately  rebaptised  Cassio,  in  Italian,  Berta 
Romer  the  colorature  singer,  myselt  for  anything  and  every- 
thing, and  my  sister  later  on.  The  pupils  of  other  teachers 
pressed  forward  also,  so  everything  was  doubly  represented 
to  render  performances  possible.  All  the  young  people 
were  very  musical,  and  most  of  them  were  as  poor  as  church 
mice.  Cassio,  a  very  youthful  Jewish  boy,  whose  father 
traded  in  rabbit  skins  in  the  Ghetto,  earning  about  four 
gulden  a  week,  was  brought  to  mamma  because  of  his  beau- 
tiful voice,  and  he  was  possessed  of  really  great  talent. 
Mamma  not  only  gave  him  lessons  without  charge  but 
supplied  his  food  as  well,  and  gathered  together  clothing 
for  him  by  begging  of  her  friends.  His  old  mother  was 
extraordinarily  elegant  in  spite  of  her  Ghetto  poverty. 

He  got  an  engagement  in  Prague,  and  had  one  afterwards 
for  many  years  in  Frankfort -on-the-Maine,  but  he  had  too 
many  love  affairs  and  they  were  his  ruin.  At  his  first  ap- 
pearance in  the  Prague  National  Theatre,  his  parents  went 
up  into  the  gallery  to  hear  him — his  mother  wearing  her 
best  black  silk  Sabbath  dress.  But  when  she  left  the  theatre 
she  had  on  only  the  waist,  for  the  skirt  had  been  literally 
torn  off  all  the  way  round.  The  old  woman  described,  with 
delicious  humour,  the  moment  of  astonishment  in  which  she 
found  herself  standing  in  her  petticoat  before  the  audience, 
stripped  of  her  most  beautiful  Sabbath  skirt. 

The  son  of  Meyer,  the  Bohemian  conductor,  also  sang 
sometimes  at  our  house.  Karl  Meyer  had  a  very  fine  voice 
and  was  very  musical,  but  had  no  idea  of  how  to  make  use 
of  his  material,  and,  moreover,  neither  practised  nor  studied. 
His  father  would  not  hear  of  a  stage  career  for  him,  and 
made  him  take  up  chemistry.  His  comic  vein  was  strongly 
developed;  he  cut  up  outrageously,  lied  with  utter  shame- 


70  My  Path  Through  Life 

lessness,  calling  upon  heaven  with  perfect  seriousness,  and 
amused  us  for  hours  with  this  "talent,"  so  that  even  my 
quiet  mother  was  compelled  to  laugh  loudly.  It  is  so  often 
the  case,  however,  with  extremely  musical  people,  that  they 
confound  the  reading  of  notes  with  art.  How  frequently 
have  I  heard  mamma  complain  that  it  was  peculiarly  difficult 
to  make  something  out  of  very  talented  musicians,  and  it 
was  so  in  this  instance. 

He  often  begged  me  to  accompany  him  in  Lohengrin, 
when  he  would  march  up  and  down  the  room  with  mamma's 
open  scissors  held  aloft  in  his  hand,  and  would  clap  them 
together  only  after  the  high  A  in  the  passage  "Hoch  uber 
alle  Frau'n"  had  come  forth  without  "over-snapping," 
which  was  the  only  thing  of  which  he  thought.  Our  en- 
treaties that  he  would  take  his  tones  softly  and  carefully 
fell  on  deaf  ears.  We  wished,  just  then,  to  produce  Gounod's 
Faust — for  what  they  could  do  at  the  National  Theatre  we 
could  do  at  Schwestka's — and  he  implored  mamma  to 
entrust  the  part  of  Faust  to  him,  with  which  he  hoped  to 
give  his  father  a  proof  of  his  voice  equipment  and  his  talents. 
He  promised  everything ;  swore  that  he  would  be  industrious 
and  obedient  if  mamma  would  take  up  his  cause,  and  some- 
times, indeed,  matters  did  go  very  well.  There  were  re- 
hearsals at  our  house  and  at  the  Schwestka  Theatre;  the 
soldiers'  chorus  was  furnished  from  the  theatre,  and  the 
women's  chorus  was  sung  by  unemployed  members  of 
the  company.  Conductor  Slansky,  of  the  German  National 
Theatre,  accompanied  the  opera  on  the  piano,  and  as  we 
could  borrow  only  one  copy  of  the  piano  score,  I  prompted 
for  the  whole  opera,  from  memory. 

We  made  ourselves  and  the  public  a  present  of  the  dances 
and  the  Walpurgis  night.  When  the  evening  arrived  every- 
thing passed  off  beautifully.  Karl  Meyer  had  promised  to 
take  the  high  C  at  the  end  of  the  aria  in  falsetto,  which  was 
naturally  so  strong  with  him  that  it  was  scarcely  in  great 
contrast  with  the  chest- tones.  The  senior  Meyer,  who  had 


Prague,   1853-1868  71 

pledged  himself  to  be  there,  had  not  appeared  up  to  the 
middle  of  the  aria.  Only  a  few  more  measures  separated 
Meyer-Faust  from  the  high  C  and  the  end  of  the  aria.  Just 
then  the  elder  Meyer  entered  the  parquet. 

Bang!  and  the  younger  Meyer  collapsed,  for,  of  course,  he 
had  taken  the  high  C  with  a  chest-tone,  and  bang!  sounded 
simultaneously  the  doors  of  the  parquet  as  Conductor  Meyer 
slammed  them  after  him  and  vanished.  All  honour  to  the 
discerning  father,  who  did  not  permit  even  his  own  son  to 
profane  art,  and  who  preferred  to  put  him  in  a  sugar  factory. 

That  same  evening  was  also  the  occasion  of  a  special 
surprise,  the  debut  of  my  thirteen-year-old  sister,  Riezl. 
She  sang  the  soprano  part  in  the  chorus  before  and  after 
Valentine's  death.  Both  her  lovely  voice  and  she  herself 
trembled  like  aspen  leaves,  and  the  little  quartet,  Herr, 
gonne  seiner  Seele  Frieden,  sounded  like  the  quavering 
confession  of  sin  uttered  by  a  tottering  little  old  woman. 
Various  other  appearances  followed  slowly  after  this  first 
one  of  hers.  She  sang  "Die  schone  Galathee "  with  much 
charm  and  beauty,  and  the  performance,  for  which  mamma 
copied  the  entire  score,  with  all  the  voice  and  orchestra 
parts,  as  we  could  not  borrow  it  for  so  long  a  time,  was  a 
splendid  one.  We  gave  farces  and  the  lighter,  older  operas 
with  an  orchestra  that  comprised  about  twelve  pieces,  while 
the  big  operas  were  done  with  a  piano.  We  gave  the  Frei- 
schutz  frequently,  and  Frau  Binder  coached  me  so  well  in 
the  r61e  of  Annchen  that  I  still  lean  on  her  training  to-day. 

For  the  last  two  evenings  which  I  can  remember,  the 
following  opera  scenes  were  selected : 

Entree  and  duet  from  Norma      Adalgisa — Berta  Romer. 

Sever — Herr  Cassio. 

Aria  and  duet,  Der  Barbier          Rosine — Lilli  Lehmann. 
von  Seviglia         Figaro — Herr  Horwitz. 
Duet  from  Die  Hugenotten  Valentine — Marie  Lehmann. 

Marcell — Karl  Cech. 


72  My  Path  Through  Life 

Duet  from  Der  Prophet  Berta — Marie  Lehmann. 

Fides — Lilli  Lehmann. 
Duet  from  Maurer  und  SMosser  Henriette — Marie  Walther. 

Mad.  Bertrand — Lilli  Lehmann. 

I  was  cast  at  noon  for  the  parts  of  Fides  and  Madame 
Bertrand,  in  place  of  the  contralto  who  was  ill.  My  sister, 
not  yet  fifteen,  and  I,  who  was  seventeen,  sang  these  great 
scenes!  I  had  also  to  attend  to  the  stage  setting,  manage- 
ment, and  costumes,  as  little  time  remained  over  to  mamma 
for  evening  rehearsals.  But  we  were  sure  of  ourselves  in 
all  parts,  and  had  acquired  at  the  little  theatre  a  splendid 
routine  in  all  necessary  professional  knowledge,  that  others 
are  either  never  able  to  obtain,  or  get  only  through  engage- 
ments covering  many  years. 

Mamma  taught  us  and  all  her  pupils  to  think  of  and  pay 
attention  to  everything,  to  study  all  the  other  parts  as  well 
as  our  own,  to  sing  to  ourselves  the  cues  and  interludes,  to 
be  prepared  for  everything,  and  never  to  lose  our  composure 
when  confronted  with  an  emergency. 

In  the  duet  from  Die  Hugenotten,  Riezl  gave  an  illustra- 
tion of  this  by  singing  as  a  matter  of  course  from  the 
stage,  quite  as  though  it  belonged  to  her  part,  the  music  of 
the  wind  instruments,  which  did  not  come  in  that  night  as 
they  should  have  done.  Countess  Kaunitz,  who  took  an 
interest  in  me,  was,  together  with  her  family,  at  the  final 
performance,  which  was  a  repetition  of  the  programme  I 
have  given,  and  they  climbed  the  hen-roost  ladder  up  to 
the  theatre.  When  I  was  in  Vienna  many  years  later,  for 
a  special  engagement,  she  and  I  laughed  over  it  heartily. 

We  needed,  of  course,  all  kinds  of  costumes  and  clothes 
for  the  performances  in  the  theatre,  and  for  the  dancing 
lessons  which  Berta  Romer  and  I  took.  How  often  I  was 
reminded  of  our  own  youth  when  reading  the  charming  story 
of  Little  Women  by  Miss  Alcott,  for  things  happened  to  us 
exactly  as  they  occurred  in  the  book.  There  were  a  hundred 


Prague,  1853-1868  73 

embarrassments  and  one  led  to  another.  We  had  so  few 
superfluous  clothes,  almost  none  indeed.  Two  costumes  of 
my  mother's,  which,  fortunately,  were  not  among  the  things 
stolen,  and  therefore  could  be  used,  made  their  appearance 
almost  invariably  when  we  did,  for  many  long  years  in 
Prague,  Dantzic,  and  Leipsic.  We  could  not  buy  things 
nor  could  we  run  into  debt,  but,  as  we  had  to  act,  acquaint- 
ances, to  whom  mamma  herself  had  shown  a  thousand 
kindnesses,  lent  us  this  or  that,  and  she  patched  everything 
so  cleverly  together  that  Frau  Burggraf,  the  first  lady,  often 
asked  to  be  permitted  to  lend  us  something,  because  the 
articles  were  returned  to  her  so  prettily  made  up.  What 
demands  this  made  on  mamma's  strength,  however,  only 
those  could  conceive  who  had  a  look  from  the  inside  at  the 
work  which  was  connected  with  these  partly  necessary, 
partly  pleasure-promoting  undertakings.  Neither  she  nor 
I  liked  to  borrow,  but  Riezl,  for  the  sake  of  looking  pretty 
did  not  mind  doing  it,  and  mamma  thus  writes  about  it  to 
Frau  R at  Cassel: 

PRAGUE,  November  14,  1866. 

I  cannot  make  a  wardrobe  for  Riezl  for  the  private  theatre, 
so  she  borrows  right  and  left,  which  often  provokes  me  very 
much,  for  it  makes  me  anxious  lest  she  should  not  return  every- 
thing in  proper  condition.  Lilli  has  little,  but  what  she  has  she 
keeps  in  excellent  order;  she  borrows  from  no  one  nor  does  she 
lend,  and  she  will  give  nothing  to  Riezl,  because  she  fears  it  may 
be  spoiled  by  her  at  the  little  theatre.  I  have  often  secretly 
helped  myself  to  something  of  hers,  when  Lilli  was  occupied  at 
the  theatre,  have  sent  it  there  to  Riezl,  and  she  has  quietly  hung 
it  back  again  in  its  place,  so  that  Lilli  would  not  notice  it.  ... 

But  Lilli  always  did  notice  it! 

XVII 

I  should  now,  by  right,  let  the  curtain  fall  over  our  childish 
kingdom  of  heaven,  but  I  must  mention  first  a  little  affair  of 


74  My  Path  Through  Life 

the  heart,  which  also  belongs  in  the  life  of  a  young  girl,  and 
asserts  its  right  as  soon  as  she  enters  the  world. 

I  met  again,  among  the  members  of  the  Schwestka 
Theatre,  a  young  student  and  his  friend,  with  whom  we  used 
to  exchange  greetings  at  the  "Three  Crowns,"  as  they  lived 
in  the  old  rear  house,  and  we  often  encountered  them  on  the 
single  stairway  which  led  thither  and  was  the  only  means 
of  connecting  with  our  house.  He,  too,  now  wanted  to 
become  an  actor.  We  knew  that  he  was  a  quiet,  cultured 
man,  and  were  glad  to  meet  him  again.  Although  he  never 
told  me  that  he  really  cared  for  me,  for  it  seemed  so  one  day 
and  seemed  otherwise  the  next,  the  fire  was  kindled  in  me, 
and  now  I  longed  to  admire  something.  But  I  could  not 
comprehend  his  behaviour,  and,  at  times,  I  had  my  tiny 
sorrow.  He  often  complained  of  heart  trouble,  that  we 
made  light  of  and  in  which  no  one  believed.  One  day,  how- 
ever, he  disappeared,  and  it  was  said  he  had  gone  away  to 
his  home.  Not  long  afterwards  I  received  a  little  box  from 
Reichenberg,  whence  he  had  come,  containing  a  letter, 
some  pressed  flowers,  and  a  little  picture  of  a  saint,  which  I 
had  used  as  a  book-mark.  The  letter  read  thus:  he  had 
never  had  the  heart  to  speak  to  me  of  his  love,  because  he 
would  not  have  me  tied  to  a  man  who  was  ill  and  feeble  and 
could  not  live  much  longer.  He  sent  me  back  the  relics  of 
his  love,  thanked  me  for  all  my  kindness,  and  said  farewell. 
The  letter  frightened  me,  especially  as  I  saw  that  he  truly 
loved  me,  and  yet  for  no  good  reason,  as  it  then  seemed  to 
me,  he  said  good-bye. 

But  all  happened  as  he  predicted.  The  report  of  his 
death  was  brought  us  a  few  months  later,  by  his  devoted 
friend.  It  was  the  first  love  I  had  experienced  for  any  one, 
and  was  only  poetry,  not  reality.  I  wish  that  I  had  never 
cared  for  any  one  again,  for  I  would  then  have  been  spared 
much  and  far  greater  sorrow. 

My  mother,  ere  this,  had  already  received  two  offers  of 
marriage  for  me.  She  laughed  over  the  first  one,  and  I 


Lilli  Lehmann  at  the  Age  of  Fifteen 

From  a  photograph  by  S.  Kohn,  Prague 


Prague,  1853-1868  75 

howled  with  rage.  The  brother  of  my  friend,  Fraulein 
Bunzl,  had  unfortunately  fallen  in  love  with  me  and  asked 
for  my  hand,  but  was  rejected  and  fell  ill  of  love.  As  the 
physicians  could  not  cure  him,  the  family  besought  me  to 
play  doctor  for  a  few  moments  and  to  heal  him  with  a 
couple  of  kind  words,  which  I,  at  last,  sorely  against  my  will, 
was  compelled  to  do.  From  that  time  he  was  restored  to 
health,  and  I  kept  out  of  his  way. 

A  second  and  very  serious  proposal  was  also  declined. 
A  young  professor  wanted  to  wait  for  me  until  mamma  was 
ready  to  give  me  up  to  him,  then  he  would  keep  me  under 
glass,  for  the  rest  of  my  Hfe,  and  watch  over  me  as  a  treasure, 
for  which  I  thanked  him  warmly.  I  nearly  said  yes  to  a 
third  offer  from  a  perfect  stranger,  who  promised  to  provide 
brilliantly  for  my  mother,  because  of  my  mistaken  solicitude 
for  her,  whom  it  would  not  have  rendered  happy.  Her  age, 
worry,  and  my  own  weakness  caused  me,  like  others,  to 
have  many  doubts  whether  I,  with  my  delicate  body  and 
small  voice,  should  ever  be  able  to  fill  a  position.  A  kind 
fate,  however,  saved  me  from  this  hasty  conclusion. 

XVIII 

At  length  things  began  in  good  earnest.  Mamma  had, 
for  a  long  time,  been  looking  about  for  a  suitable  engage- 
ment for  me,  but  had  found  nothing  acceptable,  in  spite 
of  her  good  connections.  According  to  the  constitution  of 
the  Prague  National  Theatre  no  novice  was  allowed  to  make 
her  debut  there.  Wirsing,  the  director,  must  have  heard  me 
talked  about,  however,  for  he  permitted  me  to  sing  at  a  re- 
hearsal with  orchestra  the  Queen's  aria  from  Die  Hugenotten, 
and,  as  a  result,  without  regard  to  the  rule  about  a  debut, 
I  appeared  as  first  boy  in  the  Zauberflote  on  October  20, 
1865. 

Fearful  of  a  failure,  I  called  myself  "Loew"  on  the 
programme,  a  name  by  which  no  one  knew  me,  hoping 


76  My  Path  Through  Life 

thereby  to  bear  any  mischance  without  being  recognised. 
In  case  I  gave  satisfaction  my  engagement  stipulated  for 
small  parts  only,  and  that  was  exactly  what  my  mother 
desired  for  me,  as  I  was  not  subjected  to  too  heavy  de- 
mands, could  remain  with  her,  and  could  slowly  sing  my- 
self into  a  larger  sphere  or  prepare  myself  for  it.  As  I  was 
as  pleasing  as  one  can  be  in  that  part,  I  was  allowed  to  re- 
peat the  same  r61e  on  November  4th.  The  dramatic  singer, 
Therese  Schneider,  between  whom  and  the  director  there 
had  long  been  dissension,  sang  Pamina.  After  the  duet 
with  Papageno,  he  said  to  her  repeatedly  while  he  twisted  the 
ends  of  his  moustache:  "If  you  scream  like  that,  you  will 
scream  the  whole  audience  out  of  the  theatre,"  which  was 
very  inconsiderate  of  him.  She  sang  the  whole  first  act 
with  difficulty,  then  was  seized  with  convulsions,  and  had 
to  be  taken  home.  I  offered  to  continue  with  the  part, 
although  I  had  never  studied  it  and  knew  it  only  from 
listening  to  the  pupils'  work.  Wirsing  and  the  manager, 
Hassel,  accepted  most  gratefully,  and  Hassel  announced  the 
change. 

My  dear  mother  was  sitting  in  a  box,  and  when  she  heard 
that  "Fraulein  Loew  has  declared  herself  ready  to  take  the 
part  of  Pamina,"  she  nearly  had  a  stroke.  She  rushed  to 
me  at  once,  and  declared  that  I  had  never  studied  the 
rdle  and  it  was  an  impossibility  for  me  to  sing  it.  But 
Fraulein  Brenner,  our  Queen  of  the  Night,  said  quickly  in 
her  high  treble  tones:  "Oh,  let  her  sing  it,  Frau  Lehmann, 
she  will  do  it  all  right!"  And  I  did  do  it!  The  quartet  had 
to  be  omitted,  unfortunately,  because  no  one  could  be  found 
to  sing  the  first  boy,  but  everything  else  was  left  in,  and  I 
was  a  great  success.  I  did  not  have  a  moment  of  nervous- 
ness, as  I  was  sure  of  my  business. 

We  were  on  as  intimate  terms  with  Mozart  as  though 
he  had  lived  with  us.  And  we  were  as  conversant  with  Bee- 
thoven, Weber,  Marschner,  Wagner  in  his  first  operas,  Verdi, 
Bellini,  Donizetti,  and  Meyerbeer  as  with  Mozart.  It  was 


Prague,  1853-1868  77 

not  an  empty  statement  when  we  heard  it  said  over  and 
over  again  in  our  engagements,  "  Lehmann  can  sing  Sarastro, 
also,  if  it  is  necessary!"  Yes,  thanks  to  our  education  and 
our  talent  we  might  have  sung  it.  How  we  did  study! 
While  other  singing  teachers  train  their  pupils  in  the  arias 
at  most,  and  usually  very  poorly,  with  us  the  ensembles 
were  worked  out  just  as  carefully  as  the  arias,  and  gone  over 
a  thousand  times  until  everything  went  as  it  should  go, 
regardless  of  whether  it  was  this  master  or  that.  Therefore, 
we  did  justice  to  all  styles,  as  though  they  were  our  birth- 
right. For  this  and  many  other  reasons  we  have  become 
musical  authorities  in  our  professional  life,  such  as  few  are. 
Before  I  begin  to  tell  of  my  own  career,  I  must  speak  of 
the  impressions  which  we  children  received  of  the  artists 
who  were  under  engagement  in  Prague,  or  who  visited 
there,  and  who  influenced  our  maturer  artistic  views  and 
sentiments. 

XIX 

It  was  due  to  no  merit  of  my  own  that  I  had  to  admire, 
even  in  my  early  childhood,  a  throng  of  admirable  artists, 
whose  characteristics  were  stamped  on  my  memory.  This 
was  not  only  advantageous  to  me,  but  enriched  my  life. 
From  each,  I  derived  something  special,  and  not  one  passed 
by  without  leaving  an  impress.  Some  had  glorious  voices, 
others  played  or  sang  remarkably  well,  and  there  were 
again  others  who  were  memorable  personalities,  who  stimu- 
lated my  slumbering  talent  and  my  understanding.  There 
were  many  of  these  artists,  who  came  in  contact  with  us 
during  my  more  than  fifteen-year  sojourn  in  Prague,  whose 
art  matured  my  judgment,  which  the  fine  artistic  sense  of 
my  mother  had  guided.  So  it  is  not  my  fault  alone  that  I, 
because  of  my  absorption  of  all  I  have  heard,  seen,  been 
taught,  and  studied,  demanded  a  great  deal  from  others, 
and  still  more  of  myself,  and  continually  pressed  forward 


78  My  Path  Through  Life 

toward  goals,  for  the  attainment  of  which  a  lifetime  per- 
haps might  not  suffice,  though  I  reached  many  a  one. 

Among  the  visiting  artists  whom  I  heard  and  saw  in 
Prague  were  Marlow  and  Sonntheim  in  their  prime ;  Schnorr 
von  Carolsfeld,  Frau  Dustmann-Meyer  as  Jessonda  and 
Margarethe;  Desiree  Artot,  who  was  fascinating  as  Adalgisa; 
Trebelli,  with  her  bell-like  voice,  pre-eminent  as  Romeo  and 
Tancred;  Patti,  in  her  early  days;  Bignio,  Joseph  N.  Beck 
as  Don  Juan,  lima  di  Murska,  Dr.  Schmidt,  Rokitansky, 
Marie  Seebach,  Sonnenthal,  Devrient,  Lowe,  Hendrichs, 
Dessoir,  Doring,  Gossmann,  Lewinsky,  Baumeister,  Hedwig 
Raabe,  Friederike  Bognar,  Krastel,  and  Janauschek  as  Medea 
and  Orsina.  There  were  many  Italian  opera  ensembles. 
In  farces,  I  recall  Treumann,  Jauner,  Knaak,  Josefme 
Gallmeyer,  Marie  Geistinger,  Albin  Swoboda,  Ascher,  and 
Grobecker,  and  of  dancers  the  celebrated  Spaniard  Pepita 
di  Oliva  and  the  charming  Friedberg,  who  afterwards  became 
Countess  Westphalen. 

And  what  ability  was  available  at  our  own  theatre !  The 
actors  as  well  as  the  opera  singers  were  of  the  very  first 
rank.  Many  of  those  named  above,  and  who  continued 
to  come  for  special  engagements,  formerly  had  been  engaged 
here. 

Among  the  numerous  tenors,  Eduard  Bachmann,  next 
to  the  famous  Steger,  stood  first  for  many  years.  He  was 
a  big,  handsome,  clever,  and  amiable  man.  He  began  as 
oboist  in  the  orchestra,  concertised  much  outside  on  his 
instrument,  and,  later,  had  his  glorious  voice  developed. 
This  voice  surpassed,  in  beauty  and  brilliancy,  any  that 
I  have  ever  heard;  his  tones  were  not  simply  musical,  they 
were  floods  of  deepest  emotion.  I  have  often  talked  of  this 
singing  with  Director  Jahn  in  Vienna,  and  he  quite  agreed 
with  me  that  we  have  never  since  met  with  such  a  voice, 
and  one  that  was  so  expressive.  His  breathing  was  almost 
boundless,  and  the  management  of  his  instrument  had  made 
him  musical;  he  sang  everything  in  the  original  and  never 


Prague,   1853-1868  79 

transposed.  I  am  thrilled  to-day  as  I  recall  his  Arnold  in 
Tell.  And  his  Raoul!  In  the  septet  of  the  third  act,  he 
took  the  high  C  sharp  from  the  chest,  and  repeated  the 
number  every  time.  The  duet  with  Valentine  was  simply 
superb,  there  has  never  been  anything  like  it  since.  Bach- 
mann  was  an  excellent  actor,  moreover,  and  possessed  of 
unfailing  good  humour,  both  on  and  off  the  stage.  When, 
for  instance,  he  sang  Barbarino  in  Stradella,  with  Steinecke 
as  Malvoglio,  one  could  laugh  oneself  sick.  Yet  it  was  not 
"horse-play  "  that  he  employed,  but  healthy,  natural  humour, 
which  the  management  of  the  present  day  has  killed.  And 
he  sang  the  voice  passages  in  that  opera  so  that  one's  heart 
leaped  for  joy  and  delight.  It  was  just  the  same  with  his 
Corentin  in  Dinorah,  and  his  Georg  in  the  Waffenschmied. 
Conceive  of  a  tenor  with  a  godlike  voice  and  great  dramatic 
gifts,  who  sang  not  only  the  big  heroic  parts,  but  also  those 
for  tenor  buffo. 

To-day  no  one  can  have  the  least  idea  of  the  effect  of 
such  impersonations.  The  public  of  most  theatres  is  now 
content  with  the  worst  kind  of  mediocrity,  because  it  has 
not  learned  to  know  anything  better,  and  because  the  so- 
called  artists  and  the  management  included  remain  debtors 
to  both  their  art  and  the  public.  We,  however,  who  have 
known  the  best,  have  thereby  had  our  taste  for  what  is  poor, 
ugly,  and  unworthy  totally  spoiled  for  us.  Where  are  nat- 
ural amiability,  humour,  voices,  and  talent  now  to  be  found? 
A  singer  becomes  a  tenor  buffo  only  when  he  has  a  poor  or 
deformed  figure,  instead  of  seeing  that  thence  should  radiate 
the  healthy  humour,  the  unaffected  joy  of  life,  both  of 
which  should  be  there  for  the  refreshment  of  art  and  the 
public. 

Then,  again,  how  wonderfully  did  Bachmann  sing  The 
Prophet  and  Ernani,  and  how  finely  he  acted  all  these  roles. 
The  Prague  Theatre  used  to  shake  from  the  thunderous 
applause  when  Bachmann,  Adolf  Robinson,  and  Frau  Kainz- 
Prause,  in  her  prime,  sang  together  in  Ernani.  Unfortunately, 


8o  My  Path  Through  Life 

Bachmann  did  not  sing  long.  My  mother  often  warned 
him,  but  he  believed  that  he  could  put  any  amount  of 
strain  on  his  voice,  that  it  was  indestructible,  and  so  he 
did  nothing  to  preserve  this  great  blessing.  After  a  career 
of  barely  seven  years,  he  often  sang  out  of  tune  or  became 
hoarse  in  the  middle  of  the  opera.  He  was  granted  a  long 
leave  of  absence  in  the  spring  of  1864,  returned  unimproved, 
and  resigned  his  position  at  Prague  in  1865.  He  went  to 
Dresden  in  1867,  entirely  recovered,  and  sang  the  next  year 
at  Munich  with  unparalleled  success,  when  the  King, 
Wagner,  and  von  Biilow  were  most  enthusiastic  over  him. 
Wagner  proclaimed  him  his  Siegfried,  and  furthermore 
dedicated  his  "Walter  Stolzing"  to  him. 

But,  after  he  had  suffered  from  three  bad  attacks  of 
diphtheria,  the  doctors  declared  that  the  Munich  climate 
was  dangerous  for  him,  and,  in  1871,  Bachmann,  still  in  the 
full  vigour  of  life,  accepted  a  pension.  He  became  director 
of  the  Carlsbad  Theatre  and  soon  died,  deeply  mourned  by 
all  who  knew  him. 

Pauline  Lucca  came  to  Prague  in  1860,  and  stood  the 
whole  theatre  on  its  head.  Being  a  genius,  great  liberties 
were  permitted  her,  and  already  she  took  full  advantage  of 
this.  When  one  reflects  that  this  small  person,  only  twenty 
years  old,  sang  Valentine,  Norma,  Donna  Anna,  Lucrezia, 
the  Vestal  Virgin,  and  Iphigenie  auf  Tauris,  besides  other 
r61es,  and  carried  through  most  of  them  with  tremendous 
temperament,  if  not  with  artistic  ripeness,  one  feels  ever- 
renewed  astonishment  at  the  possibility  as  well  as  the  success 
of  the  undertaking.  Her  voice  was  full,  warm-blooded,  and 
beautiful  like  the  maiden  herself,  whose  expressive,  sea-blue 
eyes  that  resembled  Niemann's,  in  their  effective  frames, 
like  wheels,  appeared  to  extend  down  on  the  cheeks  and 
above  on  the  forehead,  and  lent  her  face  seriousness  and 
intelligence.  Her  spiritual  devotion  was  beautiful,  and  so 
was  her  passion,  which  consumed  and  inflamed  everything. 
What  did  it  matter  if  a  tone,  a  gesture,  were  not  what  they 


Prague,   1853-1868  81 

should  have  been;  she  made  on  both  the  profession  and  the 
public  a  powerful  impression  which  was  never  effaced. 
Certain  isolated  parts  still  sound  in  my  ears  to-day  after 
fifty-two  years,  as  they  called  forth  the  stormy  applause 
of  the  enthusiastic  audience. 

Pauline  Lucca  sent  us  children  nearly  every  evening,  by 
mamma,  who  had  her  seat  in  the  ladies'  box,  big  cornu- 
copias of  confectionery,  which  she  received  at  the  theatre, 
for  it  was  then  the  custom  for  the  habitues  of  the  theatre  to 
send  ices  and  bonbons  every  night  to  the  ladies  of  the 
company.  She  was  most  unconventional,  and  it  sounded 
very  funny  when  she  would  say  in  pure  Viennese  dialect: 
"Please,  Frau  von  Lehmann,  lend  me  your  wipe,  I  have 
forgotten  mine."  She  carried  most  of  her  wardrobe  herself 
to  the  theatre,  and,  if  mamma  met  her  near  our  house  and 
offered  her  assistance,  she  always  declined  it  by  saying, 
"Who  does  not  wish  to  look  at  me  when  I  have  a  bundle 
need  not  look  at  me  at  all."  When  she  was  to  sing  Iphigenie, 
Frau  Burggraf  asked  her:  "Do  you  know  the  myth?"  to 
which  she  promptly  replied:  "  I  never  bother  my  head  about 
the  rent  (Miethe)  the  year  round,  for  father  pays  that!" 

After  she  had  played  a  special  engagement  in  Berlin,  she 
became  the  spoiled  child  of  its  citizens,  and  was  lost  to 
Prague.  We  often  met  in  life,  however,  and  I  often  admired 
her.  We  came  together  first  in  Berlin,  where  we  were  col- 
leagues for  two  years;  in  the  meantime  she  had  become 
Frau  von  Rhaden.  When  she  met  me  there  again  for  the 
first  time,  she  pointed  to  the  crown  carved  in  ivory  on  the 
handle  of  her  parasol,  and  said:  "See  here,  Lehmann,  you 
must  do  as  well  as  I  have  done."  Not  long  afterward  she 
exchanged  her  "von"  for  the  coat-of-arms  of  a  Baroness 
von  Wallhofen.  She  was  very  proud  of  it,  and  never  failed 
to  sign  herself  "Baroness"  in  her  letters,  a  title  which  I 
never  could  remember  to  use. 

I  saw  her  at  Copenhagen  and  in  Vienna,  where  she  sang 
a  great  deal,  and  always  compelled  me  to  give  her  the  old 


82  My  Path  Through  Life 

tribute  of  admiration.  But  she,  too,  kept  her  attachment 
for  us,  always  came  to  hear  me  whenever  I  sang  in  Vienna, 
was  full  of  praise  for  my  performances,  and  visited  me  every 
time.  She  came  once  when  there  was  trouble  between  the 
Crown  and  the  Balkan  countries.  In  conversation,  she 
divided  up  the  whole  country  amongst  the  rulers  of  all  other 
lands,  so  that  Austria  no  longer  existed  as  such,  and  ended 
her  political  lecture  with  the  words:  "Then  there  would  be 
peace!" 

Lucca's  Carmen  was  the  only  one  for  me.  She  was 
simple  and  great,  and  she  remained  simple,  despite  the 
many  improprieties  which  she  was  guilty  of  in  merry  parts. 
These  were  as  unpremeditated  as  her  tragic,  earnest  moments 
— they  came  to  her  and  she  acted  them.  I  liked  her  best  in 
serious  parts,  because  in  animated  roles  she  was  too  ' '  sloppy  " 
in  her  treatment  of  the  music.  The  Berlin  musicians 
called  it  by  a  still  worse  name.  When  she  came  to  see  me 
at  the  Hotel  Imperial,  shortly  before  her  death  at  Vienna, 
she  was  already  complaining  of  severe  pains,  but  had  pre- 
served all  her  charm  despite  her  sixty-eight  years. 

Pauline  Lucca  was  always  a  genius  without  ever  becom- 
ing a  "conscious"  artist;  a  genius,  whose  glorious  natural 
gifts  were  hers  until  her  last  breath,  and  who  also  kept  her 
sincere  admirers,  in  the  first  rank  of  whom  I  may  count 
myself,  to  the  end. 

A  page  could  be  filled  with  an  account  of  the  splendid 
powers  of  the  baritone,  Adolf  Robinson,  who  also  belonged 
to  those  talented  ones  who  are  destined  to  delight  their 
hearers,  by  reason  of  his  charming  personality,  his  warmth, 
his  wonderful  voice,  and  his  beautiful,  soul-refreshing  sing- 
ing. He  appeared  as  the  Huntsman  in  the  Nachtlager,  and 
sang  Tell,  Heiling,  Zampa,  Wolfram,  Telramund,  Luna, 
Carlos,  Nelusco,  and  Don  Juan  with  a  fire,  a  self-f  orgetfulness, 
a  nobility  of  acting  and  singing,  that  belonged  in  truth  with 
the  most  beautiful  and  splendid  impressions  in  which  I  have 
shared.  All  those  should  be  grateful  to  him  for  whose 


Prague,   1853-1868  83 

benefit  he  gave  performances  such  as  no  one  else  ever  could 
give  again. 

Wilhelm  Jahn  came  to  Prague  in  1859,  as  a  young,  un- 
known conductor,  and  only  a  year  later,  Vienna  tried  to  get 
him  away ;  but,  by  good  luck,  he  was  bound  to  us  for  a  long 
period.  Jahn,  even  then,  conducted  all  the  Wagner  operas 
from  memory,  and  did  not  remain  unknown  very  long.  He 
had  gone  through  a  good  schooling  at  small  theatres  and 
with  Italians ;  and  he  possessed  both  a  most  agreeable  speak- 
ing voice  and  a  marked  talent  for  singing.  It  was  not 
strange,  therefore,  that  he  understood  how  to  accompany 
the  singers  as  did  few  of  the  young  conductors,  who  thought 
that  they  needed  to  study  nothing  but  Wagner,  and  to 
whom  the  old  masters  were  so  much  air. 

The  utter  lack  of  reverence  displayed  by  the  youngest  of 
these  ambitious  "little  monomaniacs"  in  giving  judgment 
against  the  greatest  masters  of  the  remote  or  the  recent  past, 
in  daring  to  make  changes,  in  extracting  the  individuality 
from  their  works,  and  substituting  something  of  their  own 
highly  individual  nothingness,  passes  the  comprehension  of 
every  one  with  real  knowledge  and  of  every  devout  critic. 

A  very  well-known  manager  at  Munich,  before  a  re- 
hearsal of  Tristan,  made  the  following  telling  remark  as  the 
conductor,  who  had  kept  us  waiting  a  long  time,  came  into 
sight:  "He  has  the  score  of  Tristan  under  his  arm,  but  he 
cannot  accompany  the  Troubadour!" 

Modern  conductors  and  "new  musicians"  take  great 
satisfaction  in  scourging  "tradition."  There  is  no  art,  how- 
ever, without  tradition  in  its  highest  sense.  We  see  spiritual 
greatness  and  artistic  technique  combined  in  perfection  in 
old  paintings,  sculptures,  and  compositions  which  defy  time. 
For  the  uneducated,  the  hyper-modern,  they  may  go 
out  of  fashion,  just  as  would  a  hat  or  a  crinoline;  but  what 
is  pure  and  created  by  heaven-gifted  beings  endures  for  all 
ages,  and  will  ever  be  the  standard  of  perfect  beauty  by 
which  one  must  measure.  That  brings  every  one  back  to 


84  My  Path  Through  Life 

tradition,  for  each  man  consciously  or  unconsciously  borrows 
from  it,  life  being  too  short  for  any  individual  to  be  able  to 
create  a  perfected  art,  which  requires  centuries,  or  to  become 
an  artist  without  traditional  guidance.  Recent  art  resembles 
new  wine,  which  intoxicates  but  does  not  refresh. 

The  best  of  the  genuine  operatic  conductors,  amongst 
whom  Wilhelm  Jahn  and  Karl  Eckert  were  and  Ernst  von 
Schuch  is  still  numbered,  fared  no  better  than  the  glorious 
works  of  the  old  masters,  whose  lives,  or,  in  case  they  are 
dead,  whose  quiet  graves  are  disturbed  by  the  "new  musi- 
cians," merely  because  they  properly  give  more  rights  to  the 
singers  than  to  the  brass.  And  all  their  greater  wisdom  did 
not  save  them  from  being  thrown  to  the  scrap-heap  with  gross 
injustice,  after  lives  rich  in  artistic  activities.  Of  course 
they  were  not  masters  that  fell  from  heaven — they  only 
learned  to  be  masters ! 

Not  one  of  those  mentioned  above,  and  I  could  name 
many  more,  would  have  taken  the  liberty,  for  instance,  of 
providing  the  accompaniment  of  the  recitatives,  in  Mozart's 
operas,  with  his  own  embellishments  during  the  perform- 
ance, as  happens  to-day.  Contrary  to  all  the  rules,  beauty, 
and  requirements  of  the  accents  of  speech,  they  forbid  the 
singers  to  make  use  of  (for  what  reason,  I  ask?)  any  appog- 
giatura,  flying,  thereby,  in  the  face  of  tradition,  and  also 
killing  the  music,  the  text  of  which  insistently  demands 
its  presence.  It  seems  to  me  sometimes  as  though  I  heard 
sounds  from  those  that  have  been  buried  alive,  instead  of 
dear  living  voices,  so  that  I  often  have  occasion  to  weep  and 
mourn. 

Is  it  intended  to  hold  Wagner  responsible  for  the  present 
disuse  of  the  appoggiatura?  Has  he  none  of  them?  And 
does  one  believe  that  he,  who  was  such  a  fine  artist  in  lan- 
guage, was  so  devoid  of  taste,  or  so  unfamiliar  with  expressive 
speech  that  he  would  have  written  none?  In  every  instance 
when  the  accent  of  syllables  at  the  end  of  a  spoken  or  musical 
phrase  requires  the  appoggiatura,  Spohr,  Marschner,  Weber, 


Prague,    1853-1868  85 

and  Wagner  have  written  it  out,  and  Mozart  and  Beethoven, 
according  to  the  manners  of  their  time,  have  indicated  it 
by  means  of  two  notes  of  equal  value  and  pitch,  thereby 
signifying  the  correct  rendering.  What  would  be  the  state  of 
mind  of  these  two  masters  if  they  heard  to-day  their  won- 
derful recitatives  that  precede  the  arias,  and  the  dialogue- 
recitatives,  rendered  with  a  total  absence  of  the  appoggiatura, 
that  is  to  say,  with  a  total  loss  of  expression. 

In  this  connection,  one  needs  only  to  look  at  Wagner  in 
all  his  operas.  Let  us  take  at  random  the  aria  of  Elisabeth, 
for  instance,  or  the  first  scene  between  Tannhauser  and 
Venus,  and  in  each  composition  we  find  them  repeated, 
"Dich,  teure  Halle,  gruss'  ich  wieder,"  "Ja,  Dir  erwachen 
seine  Lieder,"  "Da  er  aus  Dir  geschieden"  or  "O,  dass  ich 
nun  envachte!" 

Every  singer  trained  in  the  classical  school,  and  to  that 
belongs  the  Italian  art  of  singing,  knows  and  must  know 
that  the  accent  falls  on  the  penultimate  syllable  of  a  final 
word,  and  that  this  accent  must  be  brought  out,  not  only 
in  the  spoken  word  but  in  the  music.  Two  equal-sounding 
notes,  on  syllables  that  are  spoken  long  and  short,  would  be 
both  a  neglect  of  the  word  accent  and  of  the  musical  expres- 
sion, and  of  that  neither  Mozart  nor  Beethoven  would  have 
ever  been  guilty. 

Up  to  my  time  no  artist  would  have  submitted  to  such  a 
prohibition,  and  never  was  it  suggested  to  me  by  any  one 
of  the  newest  conductors,  because  the  authority  of  my 
knowledge  was  my  protection.  Does  there  exist,  however, 
among  the  singers  of  to-day,  one  who  possesses  artistic 
influence,  and  who  will  defend  himself  against  caprice?  I 
am,  unfortunately,  forced  to  doubt  it,  as  their  attainments 
are  not  of  a  kind  that  convinces.  What  I  understand  by 
artistic  authority  I  will  explain  exhaustively  later  on. 

Deeply  do  I  regret  that  I  was  able  to  hear  Schnorr  von 
Carolsfeld  only  twice  in  my  life.  I  was  so  young  that  I  was 
not  admitted  to  his  artistic  circle.  When  he  came  on  the 


86  My  Path  Through  Life 

stage  in  Prague,  after  his  serenade  in  the  Troubadour,  one 
was  tempted  to  laugh  at  his  huge,  unwieldy  figure,  but  as 
soon  as  he  made  his  first  gesture,  one  was  silenced.  One 
knew  who  it  was  that  stood  there,  one  felt  his  significance, 
and  would  have  gone  on  a  pilgrimage  to  him  had  the  exist- 
ing circumstances  permitted.  It  was  an  imperishable 
impression. 

XX 

Richard  Genee  was  the  successor  of  Wilhelm  Jahn  at  the 
conductor's  desk,  and  I  began  my  career  under  his  leading. 
Genee  was  a  finely  educated  man,  a  thoroughly  noble  nature, 
an  excellent  musician,  and  a  distinguished  operatic  con- 
ductor. But  he  did  not  have  Jahn's  youthful  force  nor 
energy,  and  he  was  short  of  stature,  and  spoke  through  his 
nose  as  though  he  suffered  from  asthmatic  affections.  Once, 
when  I  met  him  in  Berlin,  he  thought  he  must  apologise  to 
me  for  something  which  had  long  weighed  on  his  mind.  He 
had  given  the  director,  Emil  Fischer,  of  Dantzic,  who  had 
asked  him  about  me,  the  following  report :  "  Lehmann  is  very 
musical  and  a  hard  worker,  but  she  has  such  a  weak  voice 
that  you  can  never  make  use  of  her  for  big  parts." 

"Do  not  take  that  to  heart,  dear  Genee,"  I  replied. 
"You  were  quite  right;  I  was  very  weak,  and  I  was  amazed 
myself  that  I  succeeded  in  Dantzic  in  performing  all  the 
great  roles." 

After  my  second  debut,  that  passed  off  so  remarkably 
well,  the  management  designed  great  things  for  me;  they 
wanted  to  engage  me  for  youthful  parts,  and  to  that  end 
"Perdita"  in  the  opera  of  the  same  name,  composed  by  Bar- 
bieri  after  the  Winter's  Tale  of  Shakespeare,  was  selected, 
which  I  was  to  study  as  an  opening  role,  and  have  ready  to 
sing  in  the  spring. 

The  part  was  charming,  grateful  to  sing  and  to  act,  and 
I  began  to  work  hard  at  it  without  delay,  although  our 
laborious  daily  life  followed  its  usual  course. 


(X 


I 


Prague,   1853-1868  87 

Thus  closed  the  year  1865,  and  the  eventful  1866 
began  that  was  to  bring  us  all  much  sorrow  and  many 
disappointments. 

At  the  end  of  February  the  trial  rehearsal  for  Perdita 
was  suddenly  announced  without  warning.  I  had  accepted 
an  invitation  for  the  evening,  to  which  I  was  looking  forward 
with  keen  pleasure,  which  seldom  occurred.  As  I  had 
worked  out  the  dramatic  action  of  the  part  very  prettily 
with  Frau  Binder,  I  was  very  sure  of  it  all,  and  as  trial  rehear- 
sals are  held  without  orchestra,  and  sung  only  with  half  voice, 
I  kept  my  previous  engagement,  led  astray  by  my  strong 
desire  to  go.  I  went  to  bed  later  than  usual,  a  thing  which 
I  cannot  stand  to-day,  and  was  very  tired  the  next  morning. 
The  first  act  was  very  good  and  I  took  great  pains;  in  the 
second  I  sang  one  passage  too  high,  and  all  was  over  for  the 
ingenue,  at  least  for  the  next  two  years,  which,  however, 
worked  unquestionably  for  my  good.  I  should  have  mas- 
tered colorature  singing  rather  than  taken  ingenue  parts. 
I  had  been  growing  like  a  weed,  and  was  weak  and  thin,  so 
that  I  was  upset  by  any  angry  word  or  even  a  gust  of  wind. 
My  dear  mother  was  filled  with  alarm  because  I  would  sit 
on  the  side  of  my  bed  at  night  and  weep  my  eyes  out,  for 
no  reason  whatever  except  that  I  felt  tired  to  death.  She 
did  more  to  strengthen  me  than  she  could  afford,  and  Pro- 
fessor Maschka,  who  was  familiar  with  such  conditions  in 
the  case  of  his  own  daughter,  watched  over  me  like  a  father. 
Only  by  slow  degrees  was  I  able  to  control  my  weakness,  and 
I  have  never  been  rid  of  great  lassitude  through  my  whole 
life.  How  much  of  a  child  I  still  was  is  illustrated  by  my 
making  little  dolls  for  myself  when  I  was  sixteen,  and  I  spent 
my  spare  time  in  playing  alone  with  them.  Games  of 
patience,  the  "puzzles"  of  to-day,  fascinated  me  by  the 
hour,  and  even  the  straightening  out  of  tangled  yarn  enticed 
me  to  tests  of  patience. 

The  director,  Wirsing,  engaged  me  for  small  parts,  how- 
ever, from  April  I,  1866,  at  a  monthly  salary  of  forty  gulden, 


88  My  Path  Through  Life 

and  out  of  that  I  had  to  provide  myself  with  all  costumes 
except  masculine  attire.  It  was  very  little,  but  it  was  the 
beginning  that  had  been  long  desired,  and,  though  it  would 
not  have  sufficed  for  me  alone,  I  made  it  do  with  my  little 
mother's  help.  I  could  now  pay  her  twenty  gulden  for  my 
board  and  lodging,  and  had  twenty  gulden  in  reserve  for  cos- 
tumes and  a  bit  of  pocket  money,  for  I  possessed  practically 
nothing. 

I  now  sang  the  whole  list  of  companions,  ladies-of -honour, 
and  court  ladies,  the  first  boy  in  the  Zauberflote,  and  imme- 
diately after,  the  first  lady  (which  has  remained  my  part), 
the  shepherd  in  Tanrihauser ,  and  the  bridesmaid  in  Frei- 
schiitz.  I  sang  in  all  operettes,  and  acted  in  many  plays,  for 
instance,  the  fisher  boy  in  Tell,  a  son  of  Kollatin's,  and  a 
boarding  pupil  in  Cinderella,  in  which  I  created  a  furore, 
because  my  lanky  thinness  and  lassitude — only  feigned 
this  time — suited  the  part  so  well.  I  had  also  to  sing  the 
song  in  the  play  for  the  captivating  Seitler,  who  was  Cinder- 
ella, as  she  could  not  do  it  herself.  In  short,  I  was  on  the 
stage  almost  every  night,  and  yet,  despite  all  my  efforts  and 
my  diligence,  I  could  not  soar  any  higher.  Director  Wirsing, 
of  course,  was  glad  to  have  in  me,  at  a  very  low  price,  a 
singer  sure  of  her  art,  especially  for  these  roles,  and  was  on 
his  guard  against  losing  me. 

XXI 

The  war  with  Prussia  broke  out  soon  after  the  beginning 
of  my  first  engagement,  and  lesser  interests  were  swallowed 
up  by  greater.  It  brought  great  upturnings  in  Prague. 
The  Bohemians  bragged  at  first,  and  wanted  to  drive  the 
Prussians  with  "wet  rags"  out  of  the  country,  but,  when  the 
lying  nature  of  the  Austrian  announcements  of  victories 
came  to  light,  and  the  Prussians  continued  to  advance,  the 
Bohemians  shrivelled  up,  and  the  strong  young  men  were 
so  cowardly  as  to  try  to  hide,  in  order  to  escape  trench  dig- 
ging in  the  service  of  the  enemy.  They  even  made  enquiries 


Prague,    1853-1868  89 

of  us  concerning  places  of  concealment,  asked  if  the  Prussians 
were  men  who  would  not  massacre  them,  where  they  should 
bury  their  valuables,  and  other  imbecile  questions.  How 
shameful!  One  day  we  saw  big  rack  waggons  that  were 
loaded  with  furniture  and  luggage,  on  top  of  which  young 
men  were  seated,  who  were  running  away  over  beyond  the 
Kleinseite,  and  the  next  day  Prague  was  entirely  depopu- 
lated. Surely  the  Prussians  now  would  come  soon. 

At  the  end  of  a  morning  walk,  which  I  had  taken  with 
Frau  Romer  in  the  Canal  Gardens,  we  saw,  on  our  return 
through  the  fields,  thousands  of  Prussian  soldiers  encamped 
before  the  Rosstor,  where  there  had  been  nothing  in  sight 
earlier,  and  they  seemed  to  have  sprung  out  of  the  earth. 
At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  they  marched  in  across 
the  Graben,  the  Garde  du  Corps  at  their  head,  where  we 
were  standing,  of  course,  waving  white  handkerchiefs  at 
them.  It  was  a  wonderful  sight! 

Not  an  hour  had  passed,  after  the  entrance  of  the  troops, 
before  at  least  one  Prussian  soldier's  head  was  poked  out 
of  every  window  in  the  city.  Without  asking  a  single 
question  each  had  gone  right  to  where  he  was  quartered. 

Little  by  little  the  "valiant"  young  Bohemians  made 
their  appearance  again,  and,  as  they  were  neither  "devoured" 
by  the  Prussians,  nor  put  to  digging  trenches,  they  said  in 
whispers:  "If  the  Prussians  would  take  us  we  would  not 
object!"  We  also  should  have  been  contented,  for  it  might 
have  put  an  end  to  the  everlasting  friction  between  the 
Germans  and  Bohemians,  which  disgusts  every  man  of  fine 
feelings  who  stays  in  Prague. 

I  again  insert  here  two  of  my  mother's  letters,  which 
give  better  expression  to  the  sentiment  that  prevailed  then 
than  I  could  do. 

From  the  War  of  1866 

PRAGUE,  July  18,  1866. 

...  I  cannot  think  it  possible  that  you  received  my  last 
letter,  or  you  would  not  have  left  us  so  long  without  news  in 


90  My  Path  Through  Life 

this  terrible  time  of  distress,  when  we  cannot  foresee  the  events 
of  the  immediate  future. 

The  Prussians  took  possession  of  our  city  several  days  ago, 
and  have  behaved  well,  quietly,  and  with  moderation.  They 
are  chiefly  the  reserves,  mostly  older,  married  men,  who  find  it 
hard  to  be  separated  from  their  families.  Half  of  the  inhabitants 
of  Prague  have  fled,  whoever  had  anything  to  lose  has  gone,  and 
whole  houses  are  deserted,  except  for  the  soldiers  who  are  quar- 
tered in  them.  All  the  nobility  and  the  Austrian  soldiers,  includ- 
ing the  police,  who  belong  to  the  military,  have  departed.  The 
Prussians  have  taken  possession  of  all  the  guard-houses,  and 
issue  all  the  regulations  to  which  the  inhabitants  of  Prague  have 
to  submit.  Placards  are  posted  daily  in  large  numbers,  stating 
what  they  require,  and  how  one  is  to  behave.  The  whole  situa- 
tion is  very  alarming;  you  cannot  conceive  how  one  suffers  under 
such  conditions.  The  schools  have  all  been  turned  into  barracks 
as  well  as  the  Conservatory  and  the  buildings  of  the  University; 
every  one  has  been  thrown  out  of  his  accustomed  routine  and, 
moreover,  deprived  of  his  earnings. 

Our  theatre  would  have  been  closed  long  ago  if  the  Intendant 
did  not  still  hold  possession  of  it,  but  that  will  not  be  so  much 
longer,  perhaps,  and  then  what  will  become  of  us  all?  There  is 
not  a  single  lesson!  It  is  particularly  hard  for  us  musicians,  for 
everything  is  given  up. 

The  Prussians  are  swarming  here,  and  I  am  told  that  more 
are  constantly  being  brought  in.  The  quartering  is  fearful,  and 
the  landlords  are  having  a  hard  time,  but  it  serves  them  right, 
because  they  begrudged  anything  good  to  others.  If  one  could 
only  see  a  happy  ending;  if  either  of  the  monarchs  was  inclined 
to  peace!  The  poor  people  who  have  lost  their  children,  parents, 
brothers,  and  sisters  have  to  console  themselves,  though  their 
hearts  may  break  in  the  process.  .  .  . 

We  seem  to  ourselves  forsaken  and  alone.  The  dreadful  con- 
ditions have  put  me  in  a  strange  state ;  my  head  is  sometimes  so 
preoccupied  that  I  could  sleep  all  day,  and  my  eyes  are  extremely 
weak.  Riezl  bears  up  the  best;  Lilli  often  has  fainting  fits, 
for  instance,  recently  when  we  saw  wounded  men  being  driven 
past  wearing  bloody  bandages,  as,  of  course,  she  is  not  accustomed 
to  such  excitements.  Men  lie  all  day  long  in  the  streets,  there 


Prague,  1853-1868  91 

is  no  traffic,  all  the  shops  are  closed,  the  suffering  of  the  lower 
classes  is  terrible,  and  rioting  is  feared.  Prussian  cannon  are 
planted  everywhere,  and  no  one  may  stir.  How  long  is  this 
state  of  things  going  to  last?  .  .  . 

War — Some  Weeks  Later 

I  have  sent  many  letters  to  you,  which,  most  probably,  how- 
ever, never  reached  your  hand,  as  the  post  does  not  go  out,  and 
all  lines  of  communication  are  interrupted.  I  cannot  describe 
to  you  what  we  have  suffered  during  the  recent  sad  days,  and 
dare  not  speak  more  plainly  in  this  letter,  which  goes  by  field 
post.  We  are  all  ill  and  miserable.  Lilli  is  like  a  shadow,  with- 
out an  ounce  of  flesh  on  her  bones,  and,  within  the  last  month, 
Riezl  has  changed  beyond  recognition.  The  sorrowful  scenes 
that  we  have  witnessed,  and  the  endurance  of  our  own  suffering 
have  greatly  reduced  us.  God  grant  that  a  change  come  soon 
or  we  shall  succumb. 

Through  no  fault  of  ours  the  war  has  affected  our  limited 
resources  most  disastrously.  We  will  write  fully  as  soon  as  the 
mails  are  resumed.  The  King  of  Prussia  is  expected  to-day;  he 
will  live  in  the  Burg. 

You  can  easily  imagine  the  state  of  things  at  our  theatre,  and 
everything  else.  The  director  is  compelled  to  give  hundreds  of 
free  tickets  every  day  to  the  military,  and  receives  no  return. 
The  boxes  belonging  to  the  aristocracy  are  occupied  by  the  young 
officers,  and  have  to  be  given  them  gratis.  The  Prussians  be- 
have themselves  very  decently,  on  the  whole,  and  it  is  dawning 
on  the  Bohemians  that  they  are  much  better  educated  than  them- 
selves. We,  also,  have  six  men  from  the  reserves  in  our  house. 
Even  women  living  alone  have  soldiers  quartered  on  them  that 
they  must  feed,  and  no  one  asks  where  they  find  the  means.  I 
will  tell  you  much  more  later  when  I  am  quieter.  Farewell,  my 
dears. 

MARIE. 

One  of  the  six  men  of  the  reserves  quartered  in  our  house 
was  a  cabinet-maker  named  Lehmann,  who  told  us  how  he 
had  been  thrown,  while  unconscious,  on  a  waggon  with  many 


92  My  Path  Through  Life 

corpses,  and  owed  his  life  to  the  circumstance  that  he  fell 
off  the  waggon  and  uttered  a  loud  cry  of  pain.  But  for  this 
lucky  accident,  he  would  have  been  put  in  the  ditch  with 
the  dead  men.  They  all  had  tales  to  tell  of  their  severe 
sufferings,  and  declared  they  would  rather  emigrate  than 
ever  take  part  in  a  war  again. 

Cholera  had  broken  out  in  Prague  even  before  the  Prus- 
sians had  besieged  it,  and  many  of  our  acquaintances  had 
been  smitten,  whom  we  children  visited  daily  without  the 
least  fear  or  any  bad  consequences. 

All  these  terrors,  which  first  arose  from  our  feverish  imagi- 
nation, and  then  indeed  closely  affected  the  daily  affairs  of 
all  who  had  to  live  by  their  receipts  for  the  day  or  month, 
working  havoc  with  us  also,  gradually  became  things  of  the 
past.  The  war  was  over,  the  bustle  of  ordinary  life  again 
went  on  about  us,  and  we  ourselves  resumed  our  old  ways. 

The  big  as  well  as  the  little  people  had  been  hard  hit  by 
the  war,  however.  The  Elector  of  Hesse-Cassel  was  de- 
throned, and  lost  his  country  because  he  would  not  join  with 
Prussia.  He  came  to  Prague  with  all  his  family,  and  divided 
his  time  between  the  city  and  his  Bohemian  estate  of  Hoto- 
witz.  He  was  reported  to  ask  every  morning  upon  waking, 
"Am  I  not  yet  at  home?"  He  never  went  home,  because 
his  principality  was  not  restored  to  him.  His  wife,  formerly 
a  Frau  Lehmann,  though  not  related  to  us,  who  had  been 
created  Princess  of  Hanau,  was  a  very  beautiful  and  amiable 
woman,  who  knew  how  to  take  the  Elector's  moods — and  he 
had  plenty  of  them — with  a  fine  sense  of  humour.  When, 
for  instance,  in  a  fit  of  rage,  he  slashed,  from  top  to  bottom, 
with  a  pair  of  scissors,  the  handsomest  dresses  she  possessed, 
she  laughed  heartily  at  the  ill-humoured  trick. 

As  soon  as  the  Princess  learned  of  my  mother's  residence 
in  Prague,  she  sent  her  first  lady-of-the-bedchamber  to 
request  her  presence.  This  lady  was  the  dear,  refined 
Fraulein  Spindler,  who  had  to  act  continually  as  mediator 
between  the  parents  and  their  children,  and  who  impressed 


Prague,   1853-1868  93 

even  the  Elector.  Mamma  had  to  tell  the  Princess  all  that 
she  had  been  through  since  her  departure  from  Cassel.  The 
latter  remembered  me  at  Cassel,  where  I  had  been  the  year 
before  with  Berta  Romer,  in  connection  with  a  visit  to  Uncle 
Paul,  as  Berta  first  appeared  there  as  visiting  artist  and  then 
was  given  an  engagement.  The  Electress,  who  observed 
everything  from  her  palace  window,  sent  word  to  us,  through 
the  Intendant,  that  our  well-bred  deportment  had  given 
her  much  pleasure.  At  that  time  we  strutted  about  Cassel 
in  crinolines  with  nubias. 

The  Princess  begged  my  mother  to  visit  her  often,  and, 
I,  too,  was  included.  She  took  so  great  an  interest  in  us  that 
afterwards  she  used  to  read  my  letters,  which  were  not  at 
all  intended  for  crowned  heads.  She  sent  us  every  week  a 
big  pack  basket  full  of  expensive  table  delicacies,  and  did 
not  forget  us  even  when  she  was  at  Hotowitz.  She  meant 
well,  indeed,  but  all  the  fine  titbits  could  not  take  the  place 
of  mamma's  simple  but  excellent  cooking.  Most  of  the 
things  fell  to  our  many  hangers-on,  for  mamma  ate  very 
little  and  was  always  delighted  to  do  a  good  turn  to  another. 

She  was  so  temperate,  so  modest  in  all  her  wants,  that 
we  often  asked  how  she  could  subsist  on  the  little  nourish- 
ment that  she  took,  and  she  always  replied:  "I  stop  just 
when  a  thing  tastes  best  to  me!"  How  very  wise!  We,  her 
children,  have  held  to  her  simple  way  of  living,  and  have 
always  found  it  the  best  for  us. 

XXII 

We  have  now  reached  the  year  1867.  Our  father  had 
not  come  to  Prague  for  a  long  time,  because  mother  did  not 
wish  it,  fearing  that  he  might  endanger  us  in  the  modest 
positions  we  occupied,  and  which  we  had  obtained  with 
difficulty.  He  was  not  getting  on  well;  he  had  not  found 
peace  and  repose,  and  very  often  he  had  been  compelled  to 
ask  assistance  of  mother.  Formerly  when  she  had  written 


94  My  Path  Through  Life 

him  about  our  talents,  and  had  touched  on  her  hope  of  a 
future  theatrical  career,  he  had  been  beside  himself,  and 
would  never  have  given  his  sanction.  Later,  however,  he 
wanted  me  to  think  of  earning  money.  He  wrote  me  to 
this  effect  on  my  twelfth  birthday,  which  gave  me  such  a 
shock  in  my  happy  childish  freedom  from  care,  that  I  can 
still  see  traces  of  its  effect  upon  me.  He  probably  thought 
that  I  ought  to  play  children's  parts,  but  to  that  my  mother, 
in  her  turn,  would  never  have  consented. 

My  poor  father  died  at  Hanover  on  February  19,  1867, 
deserted  and  in  wretched  circumstances,  as  we  were  in- 
formed after  his  death.  We  had  heard  nothing  from  him 
for  three  months,  and  were,  therefore,  not  in  a  position  to 
hasten  to  his  aid,  which  we  would  so  gladly  have  done. 
At  last  he  was  at  peace,  at  last  he  had  found  repose ! 

So,  likewise,  had  my  dear  mother.  The  crown  of  thorns, 
that  had  pressed  on  her  head  for  many  years,  was  removed. 
Though  the  wounds  continued  to  ache  for  a  long  while,  she 
now  could  breathe  freely,  as  her  anxieties  concerning  us  were 
less.  I  had  made  a  start,  and  our  little  Riezl  was  fluttering 
her  wings.  The  child  insisted  upon  entering  upon  a  stage 
career,  and  upon  becoming  independent,  and  would  not  be 
held  back  any  longer.  After  protracted  writing  back  and 
forth,  the  longed-for  engagement  was  found  for  her  at 
Leipsic,  upon  which  she  was  to  start  on  May  i,  1867.  She 
was  forced  to  wait  patiently  until  then,  whether  she  would 
or  not. 

Accordingly,  on  May  I5th,  she  celebrated  her  sixteenth 
birthday  in  her  new  engagement  in  Leipsic.  The  director, 
whom  she  did  not  admire  as  much  as  he  desired,  pronounced 
her  "quite  without  talent,"  although  she  had  sung  twenty- 
two  times  during  her  first  month,  and  she  received  her  dis- 
missal in  four  weeks.  She  was  still  bound  by  her  contract, 
but  was  given  nothing  to  do.  One  afternoon  she  was  in  a 
hot  bath  when  a  knock  came  at  the  door.  "A  messenger 
from  the  theatre  would  like  to  speak  with  Fraulein  Leh- 


Prague,   1853-1868  95 

mann."  "What  is  it?"  "Can  Fraulein  Lehmann  sing 
Leonore  in  Stradella  this  evening?"  "I  have  never  sung  it 
and  it  is  not  in  the  repertoire,  but  I  will  sing  it,  nevertheless. 
Bring  me  the  piano  score."  "That  is  already  at  the  house." 
"Very  well,  you  may  say  that  I  will  sing,  and  will  be  at  the 
theatre  this  evening;  I  do  not  require  a  rehearsal." 

With  her  beautiful,  soulful  voice,  her  extraordinary 
facility,  and  splendid  trills  she  was  bound  to  please;  her 
musical  thoroughness  was  security  for  it.  She  met  with 
marked  success,  and,  from  that  moment,  it  was  suddenly 
discovered  that  she  had  talent,  and  she  was  cast  not  only 
for  soubrette  parts,  but  for  the  Countess  in  Figaro,  and 
Rezia  in  Oberon,  amongst  many,  many  other  rdles. 

I,  too,  had  long  grown  restless  at  my  post.  Although 
director  Wirsing  told  me  frequently  that  I  might  remain  as 
long  as  I  wished,  that  did  not  console  me  for  the  uncongenial 
work,  nor  could  it  keep  me  there.  I  wanted  to  get  ahead. 
So  I  resigned  my  position,  to  take  effect  on  July  I,  1868, 
and  sought  another  engagement  for  the  autumn,  that  should 
lead  me  into  the  realm  of  colorature  singing.  I  had  been 
very  industrious,  had  practised  much,  and  had  mastered  an 
immense  repertoire  of  all  the  principal  parts.  I  had  grown 
somewhat  stronger,  also,  although  I  still  had  to  conceal  the 
"salt  cellars"  in  my  neck  with  a  crepe  chemisette.  I  could 
not,  of  course,  hide  my  long,  lean,  arms  or  wrap  them  up,  as 
bare  neck  and  arms  were  the  fashion,  regardless  of  whether 
it  was  becoming  or  not.  It  is  easily  understood  that  every 
use  I  made  of  them  appeared  angular  and  awkward.  Over 
and  over  again,  mamma  said  to  me  upon  my  return  from 
the  theatre,  and  when  I  thought  I  had  "acted"  very  well: 
"You  acted  again  to-day  with  your  arms  turned  the  wrong 
way."  It  must  have  looked  very  bad,  and  it  was,  assuredly, 
this  least  promising  thing  about  me  which  impressed  the 
eyes  of  the  audience  more  than  my  good  singing  did  their  ears. 

All  in  vain  did  I  make  my  hands  ache,  writing  for  another 
engagement.  The  time  for  making  contracts  was  long  past, 


96  My  Path  Through  Life 

and  every  possibility  seemed  to  have  disappeared,  when  an 
offer  came,  at  the  beginning  of  August,  from  an  agent,  Herr 
Landvogt,  for  me  to  go  to  Dantzic.  I  did  not  delay  a 
moment,  but  affixed  my  signature,  and  awaited  with  much 
anxiety  the  duplicate  contract,  which  finally  arrived  after  a 
fortnight,  and  put  a  quietus  on  our  fears.  I  was  to  have  a 
salary  of  sixty  thalers  a  month,  and  two  thalers  play-money 
guaranteed  for  ten  times  a  month.  This  was  a  tremendous 
salary  and  a  great  piece  of  luck  for  me  and  my  dear  mother, 
and  I  am  still  grateful  to  Herr  Landvogt,  who  did  not  then 
know  me.  I  did  not  have  to  begin  with  debts,  which  I  have 
never  incurred  in  my  life.  I  made  very  pretty  costumes  for 
myself  (how  modest  everything  was  then!),  and  saved  my 
travelling  expenses.  In  order  to  build  up  my  strength  I 
accepted  the  invitation  of  my  dear  friend,  Fraulein  Czer- 
nitzki,  to  go  to  Hoch-Chlumetz,  an  estate  belonging  to 
Prince  Lobkowitz.  There,  in  the  company  of  the  old  head 
forester,  I  wandered  through  the  splendid  woods  in  the  early 
morning,  which  delighted  and  fascinated  me  more  than  I 
can  say.  I  had  often  been  at  Hoch-Chlumetz,  and  I  had 
at  my  service  there  a  piano  and  a  big  library  of  all  classical 
authors,  which  I  devoured.  There  were  dogs,  deer,  song- 
birds, and  a  lovely  garden.  How  could  I  ever  be  able  to 
repay  fully  those  dear  warm-hearted  people  who  made  my 
visit  one  of  ever-memorable  felicity. 


Dantzic 
From  the  Autumn  of  1868  to  the  Spring  of  i869 

STRENGTHENED  by  communion  with  nature,  which 
<J  had  soothed  and  exalted  me,  I  travelled  by  way  of 
Berlin  to  Dantzic.  Only  Frau  Romer  was  at  the  station 
to  see  me  off,  for  my  dear  mother  was  too  wretched  to  go 
with  me.  We  picked  up  a  small  horseshoe  on  the  way 
thither,  and  Frau  Romer  declared  it  was  a  good  omen.  I 
now  had  taken  the  first  step  towards  the  future,  and  my 
plans  for  it  were  perfectly  clear  in  my  mind,  even  before  I 
gave  notice  to  Wirsing.  They  were  briefly  as  follows:  I 
wished  to  perfect  myself  in  singing  for  a  winter  at  a  theatre 
open  just  for  the  season,  to  strengthen  myself  in  repertoire 
and  general  efficiency  for  a  whole  year  at  a  large  municipal 
theatre,  and,  immediately  after  that,  to  seek  admission  to 
some  important  court  theatre. 

But  while  I  was  being  carried  to  Berlin  on  a  third-class 
fare,  my  heart  was  heavy  with  the  thought  of  how  I  should 
master  ten  great  roles  a  month  in  Dantzic.  This  anxious 
question  ceased  to  trouble  me  only  when  I  reached  Berlin, 
where  my  mind  concentrated  itself  on  the  present,  that  soon 
wore  a  friendly  aspect. 

I  took  lodgings  in  the  Chausseestrasse,  with  a  family 
named  Beck,  who  had  been  recommended  to  us,  and  who 
took  good  care  of  me.  After  a  healthy  sleep,  I  dressed 
myself  carefully  the  next  morning,  and  went  to  call  on  the 
renowned  theatrical  agent,  Ferdinand  Roder,  who,  when 

97 


98  My  Path  Through  Life 

he  was  an  actor,  had  known  my  parents,  and  for  whom, 
at  mamma's  desire,  I  was  to  sing  something.  Before  I  was 
admitted  I  heard  a  conversation  being  carried  on  in  the  next 
room  by  two  men's  voices: 

"How  much  will  you  give  him  a  month?" 

"Forty  thalers." 

"You  dirty  scoundrel!  The  man  can't  live  on  that; 
you  must  give  him  at  least  sixty  thalers." 

Whereupon  the  other  gentleman,  who  had  been  called 
the  opprobious  name,  agreed  to  do  it.  As  I  learned  later  the 
controversy  was  over  the  salary  of  a  young  actor,  and 
the  one  so  unflatteringly  addressed  was  the  manager,  Herr 
Engel,  of  Kroll's.  When  the  door  to  the  next  room  opened, 
I  saw,  for  the  first  time,  the  Kroll  "angel"  (Engel)  or  the 
"coloured  fellow,"  as  they  say  in  Berlin.  He  was  a  small, 
fat,  thoroughly  Jewish  gypsy,  with  black  curls,  at  whose 
brilliant,  racial,  spontaneous  wit,  I  was  often  subsequently 
forced  to  laugh. 

One  must  confess  that  Ferdinand  Roder,  the  second 
man,  who  was  also  notorious,  was  yet  the  only  theatrical 
agent  who  took  the  part  of  the  artists.  Instead  of  cutting 
the  salaries,  as  happens  to-day,  because  of  competition,  he 
always  pushed  them  up  as  high  as  possible  and,  in  that  way, 
was  of  consequence.  Roder  let  me  sing  at  once,  and  took 
me  himself  to  Herr  von  Hulsen,  who  asked  me  to  wait  a  day 
longer,  as  he  wished  to  hear  me  the  next  morning  at  the 
Opera  House. 

Herr  von  Hulsen  wanted  to  secure  me  at  once  for  Berlin, 
after  he  had  tried  my  voice,  and  would  have  liked  me  to 
break  with  Dantzic  by  telegraph  and  start  immediately  upon 
a  Berlin  engagement.  Probably  Herr  von  Hulsen  saw  no 
obstacle  in  the  fact  that  I  had  pledged  myself  to  Dantzic, 
and  just  as  probably  would  Roder  have  succeeded  in  freeing 
me  for  a  position  at  the  Court  Theatre.  I  insisted,  however, 
on  going  to  Dantzic,  so  I  expressed  my  thanks  to  Herr  von 
Hulsen,and  said  I  should  hold  myself  in  reserve  and  would 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  99 

return  as  soon  as  I  had  learned  more.  He  took  my  emphatic 
refusal  in  good  part,  for  the  moment,  and  said  cordially: 
"Come  when  you  will,  I  shall  always  have  a  welcome  for 
you.  You  may  have  a  short  star  engagement  here  whenever 
you  wish. ' ' 

This  was  the  second  important  step  with  which  Pro- 
vidence came  half-way  towards  me,  and,  reassured,  I 
continued  by  third-class  at  nine  o'clock  that  same  evening 
on  the  road  to  Dantzic,  where  I  did  not  arrive  until  four 
o'clock  the  next  afternoon,  tired  out  and  used  up.  Accord- 
ing to  agreement,  I  was  to  live  there  with  a  cousin  of  Simon, 
the  Prague  actor,  who  had  said  he  would  announce  my  ar- 
rival. But  when  I  drove  up  to  No.  26  Hundegasse,  I 
found  Fraulein  Hoppe  was  not  home.  She  had  gone  to  a 
little  garden  which  she  rented  outside  the  city.  Some 
neighbours,  who  gave  me  this  information,  saw  my  em- 
barrassment, and  offered  to  send  a  message  to  her  while  I 
waited  at  their  house. 

An  hour  later  the  lady  returned  home  in  a  state  of  great 
astonishment.  She  had  neither  been  informed  of  my  coming 
nor  had  she  received  any  word  from  her  cousin,  and  could 
not  think  of  taking  any  lodger  in  her  cramped  dwelling.  I 
was  so  near  weeping  that  no  one  could  fail  to  notice  it.  In 
my  crushed  state,  I  was  just  about  to  depart,  bag  and 
baggage,  when  she  bethought  herself  of  a  better  plan,  and 
asked  me  to  enter  to  look  at  her  apartment,  which,  while 
not  large,  was  roomy  enough  for  two  ladies.  She  must  have 
seen  that  I  was  "somebody,"  and  she  now  endeavoured  to 
wipe  out  the  first  very  disagreeable  impression  by  inviting 
me  to  remain  with  her.  Perhaps  I  should  have  refused  had 
I  not  been  so  completely  fagged  out,  a  stranger,  and  quite 
upset  by  the  failure  of  the  plans  agreed  on.  So  I  stayed, 
and  must  gratefully  acknowledge  that  Fraulein  Hoppe  did 
everything  in  her  power  to  make  me  comfortable. 

After  I  had  had  a  good  cry,  and  had  written  to  mamma,  I 
fell  asleep  on  a  sofa  in  a  new  phase  of  my  future  life.  I  slept 


ioo  My  Path  Through  Life 

soundly,  only  I  dreamed  that  I  was  eating  sweet  grapes,  and 
the  taste  of  them  was  still  in  my  mouth  when  I  awoke, 
and  looked  up  into  the  laughing  face  of  Fraulein  Hoppe, 
who  had  put  a  drop  of  honey  on  my  lips  as  she  leaned  over 
me,  and  that  had  sweetened  my  dream  and  the  imaginary 
grapes.  We  now  got  on  well  together.  The  very  next  day 
she  took  me  to  her  friend,  Frau  Ulrich,  who  received  me  as 
though  I  were  her  own  child,  her  husband  and  father-in-law 
joining  with  her;  and  they  fairly  spoiled  me.  Some  days 
later,  the  two  ladies  found  for  me,  with  acquaintances  of 
theirs,  at  No.  50  Pfefferstadt,  a  fine  large  room,  which  cost 
twenty-five  thalers  a  month  with  full  pension,  and,  in  a  week, 
I  had  moved  there  very  content,  and  could  not  have  been 
better  off  than  in  the  hands  of  old  Mother  Heinrich  and  her 
two  daughters.  I  had  found  friends  already  before  I  had 
made  my  first  appearance. 

The  introductory  visit  to  Herr  and  Frau  Director  Emil 
Fischer  passed  off  just  as  I  desired.  The  wife  of  the  director, 
whose  maiden  name  was  Gotz,  and  who  had  been  the  widow 
Dibbern,  sat  in  her  wrapper  at  a  sewing-machine,  making  a 
child's  dress.  The  director,  also,  was  in  a  dressing-gown — 
— it  was  eleven  o'clock — with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  and  his 
snuff-box  in  his  hand;  he  proved  to  be  much  younger  than 
his  wife.  He  smiled  at  me,  with  his  fine  gazelle-like  eyes, 
asked  my  preference  concerning  the  part  in  which  I  should 
make  my  debut,  and  the  r61e  of  the  Queen  in  the  Hugenotten 
was  selected  for  it.  Although  the  Frau  director  continued 
to  sew  on  the  child's  garment  in  silence  and  very  seriously, 
without  speaking  a  syllable  or  taking  any  notice  of  me,  I 
knew  at  once  which  of  them  "wore  the  trousers."  I  heard 
that  two  more  colorature  singers  had  been  engaged, 
which  was  bad  news,  but  I  went  bravely  to  the  battle 
and  won  it  at  the  first  blow.  One  of  my  rivals  never 
appeared,  and  the  other  remained  only  second  soubrette. 
"I  never  should  have  believed,"  I  wrote  mamma,  "that 
there  could  be  a  smaller  voice  than  mine,  and  yet 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  101 

there  are  six  singers  engaged  here  who  have  far  weaker 
organs." 

The  winter  was  not  easy  for  me.  The  talents  that  had 
been  assembled  were  better  suited  to  light  operette  than  to 
master  works,  which  compelled  me  to  learn  at  least  one  new 
role  every  week  in  operas  which  otherwise  are  given  either 
very  little  or  not  at  all, — for  instance,  Krondiamanten, 
Schwarze  Domino,  Johann  von  Paris,  Undine,  Die  beiden 
Schutzen,  Doktor  und  Apotheker,  Carlo  Broschi,  etc.  The 
grand  variations  in  the  Krondiamanten  I  could  not  learn 
entirely  by  heart,  as  so  little  time  had  been  given  me,  but 
as  in  the  performance  they,  apparently,  were  to  be  read  at 
sight,  I  ventured  to  attempt  it.  In  other  ways,  also,  I  had 
my  hands  more  than  full,  as  our  second  conductor  played 
the  piano  so  badly  that  I  had  not  only  to  sing  but  to  accom- 
pany whatever  was  sung  behind  the  scenes.  My  letters, 
which  my  dear  mother  carefully  preserved,  are  better  than 
my  reminiscences  to  illuminate  the  situation  at  Dantzic. 

DANTZIC,  October  17,  1868. 
MY  DEAR,  DEAR  MAMMA, 

As  I  am  to  send  you  a  report  of  everything  I  now  must  write 
you  again.  I  sang  the  Queen  in  the  Hugenotten  yesterday,  and 
have  repeated  the  great  success  I  had  the  first  time.  The  public 
really  likes  me,  and  I  am  very  contented.  Just  fancy,  I  must 
sing  the  part  of  Marie  in  both  the  Waffenschmied  and  Zar  und 
Zimmermann,  for  which  the  Frau  director  will  lend  me  costumes. 
You  can  imagine  the  state  of  things  amongst  our  soubrettes.  I 
sing  the  parts  very  willingly  as  they  put  no  strain  on  me.  I 
received  very  gorgeous  bouquets  again  yesterday,  and  early  to- 
day I  bought  myself  a  fuchsia  bush,  not  very  big  but  with  a 
thousand  buds,  inside  white  and  red  outside.  I  take  the  greatest 
delight  in  it,  and  only  wish  that  you  and  Herr  Romer  could  feast 
on  the  splendid  sight. 

Don  Juan  is  to  be  given  on  Monday  with  me  as  Elvira.  I 
still  have  much  to  learn  but  do  it  with  pleasure,  as  it  would  strike 
me  as  very  strange  if  I  were  to  have  any  days  to  rest,  for  I  am  so 
accustomed  to  study.  I  wish  to  write  to  Frau  Romer,  but  just 


102  My  Path  Through  Life 

now  it  is  impossible;  give  her  my  love  and  tell  her  that  I  thank 
her  a  thousand  times  for  watching  over  you  as  formerly,  and  shall 
never  forget  it.  I  take  the  greatest  interest  in  Berta's  triumphs. 

No  one  has  any  conception  how  dear  things  are  here.  I  pay 
five  thalers  for  breakfast!  What  do  you  think  of  that?  I  have 
stopped  taking  meals  at  the  hotel  as  my  landlady  is  willing  to 
cook  for  me  herself;  and  of  course,  I  like  that.  I  send  you  here- 
with a  criticism  concerning  Heiling,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  be 
satisfied.  How  long  ago  was  it,  mamma,  that  when  I  sat  at  the 
piano  and  sang  one  of  the  many  parts  that  I  have  already  sung 
here  you  laughed  at  me,  thinking  to  yourself,  maybe,  "Does  the 
child  really  imagine  that  she  will  ever  be  able  to  sing  such  a  role ! " 
Is  that  not  true?  I  hope,  however,  that  I  can  attain  to  a  high 
level  in  my  life,  so  as  to  repay  you  even  a  very  little  of  what  I 
owe  you.  Only  now  do  I  understand  all  that  I  have  learnt  from 
you,  and  to  what  extent  the  good  God  has  blessed  me.  I  shall 
not  fail  in  determination  and  industry. 

A  thousand  thanks  for  your  dear  letters ;  do  write  much  and 
often,  and  take  100,000  kisses  from  your 

LILLI. 

DANTZIC,  November  12,  1868. 
MY  DEAR,  DEAR  MAMMA, 

I  was  just  on  the  point  of  writing  you  yesterday,  when  I  was 
interrupted  by  unwelcome  visitors.  My  good  intentions  had  to 
wait  in  a  corner  for  a  favourable  opportunity,  and  there  was  none 
until  to-day  when  I  am  sending  you  a  thousand  greetings  from 
bed,  where  I  am  staying  in  order  to  save  my  strength.  It  is 
snowing  to-day  for  the  first  time,  and  as  though  it  were  paid  for 
doing  it.  It  gives  me  a  delightful  sensation  to  look  at  the  snowy 
roofs  and  the  white  figures  that  pass  my  window,  while  I  can  sit 
in  my  warm  room  and  study.  Scarcely  has  one  opera  been  laid 
to  rest  than  another  is  born,  ,and  one  has  to  work  much  and  long 
at  it  until  the  same  history  is  repeated.  I  have  to  undergo  the 
annoyance,  and  you,  on  the  other  hand,  may  read  of  my  resulting 
triumphs,  that  give  you  greater  pleasure  than  they  give  me, 
because  you  can  digest  them  more  quietly.  If  you  have  finished 
the  criticism  of  Carlo  Broschi  I  shall  send  you  a  fresh  cargo. 

The  audience  gave  me  a  welcome  in  the  midst  of  the  singing, 
when  I,  as  the  Princess  in  the  Judin,  appeared  on  the  stage  in 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  103 

the  procession  in  the  first  act.  My  friends  say  that  I  sang  well, 
was  in  good  voice,  and  looked  very  pretty.  Whether  our  leading 
critic,  Marcull,  was  satisfied  I  shall  not  read  until  this  evening. 
Because  Carlo  Broschi  had  such  a  success,  the  Schwarze  Domino, 
the  Krondiamanten,  Johann  von  Paris,  and  the  Maskenball,  have 
also  been  put  in  the  repertoire. 

I  seized  a  moment  of  clear  weather  yesterday  and  went  for  a 
walk.  I  had  gone  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  in  a  fearful 
tempest  when  the  rain  caught  me,  also,  and  I  had  to  seek  shelter 
in  a  coffee  house  on  the  mountain,  from  which  one  gets  a  view  of 
the  lake.  The  weather  had  been  clear  five  minutes  previously, 
and  now  the  whole  sky  was  red,  brown,  and  black,  a  really  alarm- 
ing spectacle.  Suddenly  the  sun  shot  its  perpendicular  beams 
down  on  the  lake,  that  was  faintly  illuminated  now  and  then  for 
a  moment  only  to  rage  again  in  black  horror  immediately  after- 
ward. It  was  a  marvellous  sight!  At  such  times  I  feel  much 
closer  to  Nature  than  in  her  smiling  moods ;  why  is  that?  Give 
the  riddle  to  Kohler,  and  greet  him  from  your  most  loving 

LlLLI. 

DANTZIC,  November  20,  1868. 
MY  DEAR,  DEAR  MAMMA, 

Your  irritation,  due  to  not  receiving  two  of  my  letters,  is 
ended  by  now,  I  hope,  and  you  will  be  as  dear  and  sweet  to  me 
again  as  before.  It  is  most  beautiful  here  now;  everything  is 
frozen  hard,  and  the  sun  shines,  the  sky  is  very  clear  and  lovely, 
and  good  people  are  in  good  spirits.  I  am  so  above  everything, 
for  I  succeeded  again  yesterday  as  Frau  Fluth,  and  I  must  say, 
to  my  own  satisfaction,  that  I  did  far  better  than  the  first  time. 
My  voice,  too,  was  all  right  again.  I  must  tell  you  frankly  that, 
though  my  chest  was  not  exactly  affected,  yet  my  voice  sounded 
much  weaker  from  continual  singing.  But,  thank  God,  every- 
thing is  in  the  best  condition  again.  I  have  been  on  the  lake 
once  more  with  the  Fischers,  which  always  does  me  good. 

Fra  Diavolo  is  to  be  given  on  Sunday  instead  of  Dinorah,  and 
the  Frau  director  is  going  to  lend  me  her  costume  for  it,  which 
consists  of  a  blue  woollen  cloak  and  a  yellow  woollen  petticoat. 
If  Tannhauser  is  not  given  on  the  24th,  I  shall  invite  the  three 
Ulrichs,  Fraulein  Hoppe,  and  Herr  Cabisius,  our  second  baritone, 


104  My  Path  Through  Life 

who  is  a  very  nice,  reliable  man,  to  keep  my  twentieth  birthday 
with  me.  It  is  such  a  shame  that  we  are  separated  by  so  great 
a  distance  that  we  cannot  be  happy  together  on  the  day  we 
always  kept  so  joyously.  I  hope  it  will  be  otherwise  next  year. 

We  must  bury  all  our  own  desires  until  summer,  for  they  avail 
us  nothing  any  earlier.  So  many  of  our  hopes  and  wishes  have 
already  been  fulfilled  that  we  should  be  content  for  the  present, 
and  in  fact  I  am.  I  hope  that  I  may  be  as  happy  all  my  life  as 
I  am  now.  I  cannot  always  be  so  successful,  but  I  shall  certainly 
never  despair,  and  shall  bend  all  my  energies  to  reach  the  goal  that 
I  see  ahead.  You  will  remain  true  and  good  at  my  side,  and  you 
shall  have  your  reward  when  I  have  attained  the  end.  I  wish 
it  were  in  my  power  to  give  you  happiness  now;  believe  me 
when  I  say  that  it  is  my  only  desire  and  one  that  I  shall  never 
put  aside,  and  my  first  and  most  sacred  duty.  I  wish  I  could 
requite  you  even  a  little  for  what  you  have  deserved  of  me  alone. 
I  have  often  regretted  it  when  I  have  spoken  harshly  or  have 
vexed  you ;  do  believe  that  I  have  asked  your  forgiveness  a  million 
times,  and  I  have  repented  my  ingratitude  from  the  bottom  of 
my  soul.  I  know,  however,  that  a  mother  such  as  you  forgave 
me  long  ago. 

Do  the  Romers  still  go  to  see  you  every  day?  How  do  you 
get  along  with  your  accounts?  Are  you  as  accurate  as  your 
former  bookkeeper?  I  continue  to  keep  mine,  and  enter  every- 
thing. I  bought  myself  to-day  some  shirting  for  three  little  pet- 
ticoats. Our  stage  is  very  sloping,  and  I  needed  them  for  the 
many  short  parts  that  I  sing  now.  Do  not  forget  to  send  me, 
dear  mamma,  the  music  and  instrumentation  of  the  Paccini 
aria,  and  my  Ahasver  by  Hamerling. 

Do  write  me  soon  again ;  remember  me  to  all  our  friends,  and 
accept  a  thousand  kisses  from  your 

LlLLI. 

I  had  been  scarcely  two  months  in  Dantzic  when  I  re- 
ceived contracts  from  Riga,  Konigsberg,  Cologne,  and  Krolls' 
at  Berlin,  for  the  summer  season.  I  held  to  my  resolution 
and  declined  them  all.  Then  came  Dr.  Laube  with  an 
offer  for  Leipsic,  which  I  accepted  without  a  moment's 
hesitation.  It  was  a  three-year  contract,  indeed,  which  did 


Sj  sprai  X\7,  J  7.  tt  A  AJ>  ^/>  AA  iM.  VV&  AA  AA  AA  -U*  *A  ^  ^  \li  ^  U 


PQ 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  105 

not  suit  me,  but,  as  they  would  not  consent  to  make  it 
shorter  by  a  year,  I  had  to  bite  into  the  sour  apple.  I, 
appeared  there  on  December  15,  1868,  by  invitation,  as 
the  Queen  in  the  Hugenotten,  on  the  i8th  as  Carlo  Broschi 
and  was  positively  engaged  from  June  I,  1869. 

A  very  disagreeable  incident  occurred  during  the  re- 
hearsal for  Carlo.  The  hero  in  the  second  act,  joining  in  an 
ensemble,  has  a  little  ariette  to  sing,  consisting  exclusively 
of  "parlando"  passages,  by  which  he  endeavours  to  alienate 
the  melancholy  king  from  his  false  ministers  and  their 
intrigues.  In  order  to  cheer  the  king  and  to  sustain  his 
energy,  he  sings  the  frequently  repeated  passages  more  and 
more  rapidly  and  humorously,  triumphing  unrestrainedly 
over  his  adversaries,  and,  finally,  in  the  most  rapid  tempo, 
hurls  his  playful,  equivocal  words  at  their  heads.  The  right 
effect  is  produced  by  the  scene  only  when  it  is  sung  in  this 
way  and  acted  vivaciously.  Gustav  Schmidt,  the  conduct- 
or, who  was  especially  fond  of  impressing  his  authority 
on  beginners,  and  who  could  be  very  hateful  as  well  also  to 
old  members  of  the  company,  dragged  the  scene  without 
regard  to  the  text  and  situation.  During  a  short  pause  for 
breath,  I  called  down  to  him  "quicker!"  which  made  him 
so  angry  that  he  laid  down  his  baton,  and  resumed  the 
rehearsal  only  after  a  long  discussion  with  the  manager.  He 
had  never  had  such  an  experience  before!  I  really  had  no 
time  to  beseech  him  to  do  this  while  I  was  singing,  but  I 
made  my  excuses  myself,  and  at  last  the  rehearsal  was  con- 
tinued. At  all  events  the  dragging  of  the  tempo,  to  my 
thinking,  was  just  as  inconsiderate  as  my  remark.  That 
afternoon,  when  I  took  a  walk  in  the  Rosental  with  Heinrich 
Laube,  he  said  that  the  incident  had  been  very  regrettable, 
and  that  he  would  assign  all  operas  in  which  I  was  to  sing 
to  the  conductor,  Muhldorf er,  so  as  not  to  stir  up  any  more 
feeling.  I  was  well  pleased  with  this  arrangement. 

I  learned  to  value  G.  Schmidt  very  highly  later  on,  as 
he  did  me,  for  I  soon  succeeded,  during  my  engagement,  in 


106  My  Path  Through  Life 

pacifying  him  so  completely  that  he  laid  down  his  baton  in 
Mozart's  operas,  for  instance,  Figaro,  Don  Juan,  and  Die 
Entfiihrung,  in  which  I  sang  the  Page,  Susanne,  Zerline, 
Elvira,  and  Blondchen,  and  during  my  arias  permitted  the 
orchestra  to  accompany  me  alone,  a  distinction  that  was 
given  to  few  when  he  conducted,  and  which  meant,  "nothing 
wrong  can  happen!"  He  was  insanely  strict,  suffered  no 
carelessness,  and  made  most  alarming  faces  at  the  artists 
who  were  guilty  of  a  mistake  of  a  sixteenth.  If  the  less 
industrious  gentlemen  committed  such  a  crime  and  avoided 
his  glance,  they  had  grimaces  made  at  them  in  some  care- 
free moment,  even  a  fortnight  afterwards,  and  only  then 
was  the  offence  expiated.  He  made  us  singers  very  nervous, 
and  no  one  had  an  easy  time  under  him.  I  am  grateful  to 
him  for  his  severity,  however,  which  led  me  farther  on  the 
path  of  all  musical  virtues  and  held  me  there. 

I  wrote  to  my  mother  as  follows  on  my  return  from 
Leipsic. 

DANTZIC,  December  26,  1868. 
MY  DEAR,  DEAR  MAMMA, 

Forgive  me,  if  you  are  the  least  bit  troubled  about  me,  be- 
cause I  did  not  write  to  you  yesterday.  I  was  very  tired  after 
singing  Carlo  on  Friday,  but  I  again  did  it  very  well.  Yester- 
day I  received  those  parts  which  were  sent  to  me — Caroline  in 
Die  beiden  Schutzen,  the  Princess  in  Johann  von  Paris,  Venus  in 
Tannhduser,  and  Undine.  I  shall  sing  Venus  on  Thursday,  and, 
moreover,  Don  Juan  is  given  to-morrow. 

According  to  what  Fischer  told  me  to-day,  Orge*ny  is  not 
coming  for  a  special  engagement.  He  said :  "  If  she  proves  better 
than  you,  she  will  do  you  harm;  if  worse  I  shall  suffer,  and,  be- 
sides, you  are  such  a  favourite  that  I  would  not  entertain  the 
idea  of  inviting  any  one  else." 

Is  that  not  most  considerate  of  him?  But  the  Fischers  are 
people  that  are  as  good  as  gold  and  not  suited  to  the  position  of 
directors,  and  I  feel  great  pity  for  them.  I  paid  her  a  call  to-day 
after  rehearsal,  which  took  place  in  the  same  house;  she  would 
not  let  me  leave  and  I  had  to  stay  for  a  meal.  One  feels  entirely 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  107 

at  home  with  them.  She  lent  me  a  white  costume  with  roses 
for  Venus,  which  I  am  very  glad  of,  as  the  opera  may  be  given 
only  once.  Matters  are  going  very  badly  (I  understood  the 
reasons  long  afterward),  but  the  opera  draws,  and  even  then 
only  if  I  sing.  That  is  not  arrogance,  it  is  the  truth. 

Your  dear  letter  found  me  still  in  bed,  and  I  am  just  so  much 
happier  to-day,  because  it  cheered  me  even  before  I  got  up.  The 
letter  from  Laube  is  very  amiable,  and  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
go  to  Leipsic,  as  it  will  be  the  fulfillment  of  one  of  your  chief 
desires, — that  of  being  with  your  Riezl, — and  then  you  need  not 
worry  any  more  at  all. 

Do  you  realise,  mamma,  that  what  you  treated  as  a  joke, 
years  ago,  has  or  rather  soon  will  become  fact?  This  thought 
makes  me  happy  and  light-hearted,  and  I  do  not  feel  lonely,  but 
as  though  I  were  already  with  you,  and  we  were  now  living  a 
lovely  life  together.  It  may  be  that  I  feel  this  way  because  we 
write  each  other  so  often.  I  should  never  have  believed  that  I 
could  have  so  much  to  say,  and,  just  think,  if  I  do  not  write  one 
day,  on  the  next  I  seem  to  have  a  long,  long  story  to  tell  you. 
Schmidt's  letter,  also,  is  very  nice.  Although  I  do  not  like  him 
particularly,  I  believe  that  he  is  an  honourable  man  and  a 
competent  conductor. 

I  did  not  exaggerate,  did  I,  when  I  said  so  much  in  praise  of 
Riezl's  voice  and  art  on  my  return  from  Leipsic?  I  rejoice  that 
I  am  to  be  under  such  management  and  direction  as  that  of 
Leipsic,  for  I  have  a  very  strong  impulse  in  me  to  become  some- 
thing great,  and  that  I  can  never  accomplish  here.  All  that  I 
do  proceeds  from  myself,  and  even  if  much  of  it  is  good,  yet  it  is 
not  so  well  done  that  it  cannot  be  improved.  That,  however, 
cannot  come  about  of  itself  when  I  have  to  study  in  such  fearful 
haste ;  I  need  to  have  good  guidance  like  that  of  Hassel  or  Ober- 
lander  (an  actor  at  Prague  and  manager  of  the  opera  and  drama). 
God  knows  that  I  am  most  grateful  to  both  for  what  I  saw  and 
learnt  in  Prague,  and  that  I  have  wished  a  hundred  times  that 
I  had  Hassel  here,  with  all  his  rudeness.  I  have  gone  over  all 
this  to-day,  at  the  Fischers';  they  both  are  quite  aware  of  it, 
but  the  present  management  is  on  bad  terms  with  them,  and, 
therefore  while  that  continues  everything  will  remain  unchanged. 

The  criticism  of  the  Jildin  is  enclosed;  it  is  not  very  remark- 


io8  My  Path  Through  Life 

able,  indeed,  but  is  quite  just.  I  was  entirely  bewildered  in  the 
trio,  and  had  to  pull  myself  together  to  give  the  notes  and  text 
their  ordinary  value.  I  will  tell  you  why.  The  ladies  and 
gentlemen  figured  as  supers,  which  irritated  them  extremely. 
Some  of  them  behaved  so  stupidly  that  Frau  Fischer  came  down 
out  of  her  box  after  the  procession  and  made  a  fearful  scene  in 
our  dressing-room,  which  is  small  enough  anyhow,  so  fearful 
that  my  head  hummed  like  an  old  casserole.  Then  she  sent  to 
her  house  for  an  old  dress,  put  on  my  shoes  and  my  veil,  and 
joined  the  supers  in  the  following  acts,  which  she  had  not  done 
before  because  she  had  been  sick  in  bed  all  day.  Is  it  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  one  was  quite  giddy  withal?  It  is  already  very 
late,  and,  as  I  am  hoping  that  this  letter  can  still  go  out  to-day, 
I  must  close,  and  can  send  you  no  more  for  the  present  than 

1000  hearty  kisses. 

Your 

LILLI. 

I  now  had  made  another  big  stride  forward,  and  could 
follow  with  fresh  courage  the  path  I  had  chosen.  Adolf 
Robinson's  special  engagement  gave  me  intense  pleasure, 
and  he  fascinated  me  anew,  for  I  learned  to  know  him  better. 
We  sang  together  in  the  Barbier,  Heiling  and  Tell.  Frau 
Fischer  called  him  to  account  because  he  did  not  speak  the 
prose  lines  in  Heiling  to  her  satisfaction.  It  was  now  superb. 
That  night  I  wept  my  eyes  out  of  my  head  from  pity  for 
Heiling,  and  would  rather  have  gone  with  him  than  with 
my  Huntsman.  But  I  honoured  him  only  as  an  artist 
and  a  very  nice,  modest  man;  he  could  never  inspire  me, 
strange  as  it  is,  with  a  deeper  feeling,  simply  as  a  man. 
Everybody  loved  him  in  Prague;  they  were  so  enthusiastic 
over  him  there  that  a  beautiful  woman  of  the  aristocracy 
once  broke  out  with  the  cry,  "No  Nachtlager  without  Robin- 
son!" As  long  as  the  lovely  Countess  lived  she  was  teased 
about  her  utterance. 

Zottmeyer,  also,  aside  from  his  human  eccentricities, 
was  a  great  artist,  who  wandered  about  unceasingly,  however, 
and  could  not  take  root  anywhere.  He  interested  me  espe- 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  109 

daily  because  of  his  dramatic  talent.  The  most  incredible 
reports  about  him  were  in  circulation,  calculated  to  inspire 
fear  in  a  timid  young  girl.  I  did  not  like  to  be  near  him; 
even  a  stage  caress  would  have  distressed  me.  I  avoided 
him  as  I  would  something  unclean,  and  was  glad  that  the 
repertoire  kept  me  away  from  him.  I  can  never  forget  his 
Templer,  however,  that  impressed  me  as  being  artistic, 
great,  noble,  and  true.  I  saw  him  at  the  Fischers',  where 
he  went  to  get  the  "right  attack,"  a  study  to  which  he  ap- 
plied himself  unintermittently,  and  he  would  have  given 
his  life  for  the  conscious  correct  placing  of  it. 

Director  Emil  Fischer  was  the  son  of  the  famous  singers 
"  Fischer- Achten."  He  was  one  of  those  rare  artists  who 
preserve  their  voices  in  advanced  old  age;  he  sang  beauti- 
fully and  sang  everything.  The  two  Arnuriuses,  husband  and 
wife,  sang  well  but  were  uninteresting;  he  took  first  tenor 
parts,  and  she,  who  had  once  been  a  very  good  colorature 
singer,  appearing  with  us  twice  as  "Norma"  and  once  sing- 
ing the  "Queen  of  the  Night,"  took  alto  parts  and  old 
women.  In  other  respects,  one  could  not  boast  much  of 
the  opera,  and  only  to  the  visiting  engagements  of  Zottmeyer 
and  Adolf  Robinson  did  we  owe  some  really  excellent  per- 
formances. Others  were  so  much  the  worse,  as  is  best 
shown  by  a  letter  to  my  mother: 

DANTZIC,  March  3,  1869. 
MY  DEAR,  DEAR  MAMMA, 

The  name  of  the  opera  which  you  could  not  read  was  Undine, 
which  I  had  learned  in  three  days.  Imagine,  the  big,  difficult 
part,  and  I,  moreover,  with  a  carbuncle  on  my  forehead,  which 
is  swollen  way  up. 

I  was  in  good  voice,  nevertheless,  and  performed  my  role  very 
well,  as  I  had  given  a  tremendous  amount  of  study  to  it.  My 
lips  spoke  the  words,  without  my  having  time  to  think  of  them, 
for  everything  went  with  such  a  rush.  The  part  is  very  beautiful 
and  I  took  great  pleasure  in  it.  On  the  other  hand,  our  dramatic 
singer,  Fraulein  Chuden,  sang,  or  rather  tore  to  tatters,  the  r61e 


no  My  Path  Through  Life 

of  Berthalda  in  the  second  act,  so  that  we  all  thought  the  curtain 
would  have  to  be  lowered.  She  is  always  uncertain  and  unmusi- 
cal, and,  on  this  occasion,  she  sang  the  second  passage,  "Oh, 
tremble!"  (Ha,  zittre!)  instead  of  the  first,  "Beliebt  Euch  junge 
Frau."  Nothing  on  earth  could  have  torn  her  away  from  her 
false  entrance,  and,  with  an  assurance  that  had  never  been  hers 
before,  she  sang  the  whole  thing  firmly  and  triumphantly  to  the 
end.  It  was  terrible. 

That  the  second  act  was  sung  to  a  finish  we  owed  solely  to 
our  extremely  phlegmatic  conductor,  Dehneke,  who  quietly 
laid  down  his  baton  and  stopped  the  playing  of  the  orchestra. 

I  hope  that  you  will  rejoice,  as  I  did  myself  yesterday,  in  my 
voice,  that  has  become  much  stronger.  A  proof  that  I  have 
learnt  a  good  deal  and  understand  how  to  sing  lies  in  the  fact 
that  I  have  both  studied  and  sung  a  tremendous  amount  without 
being  hoarse  a  single  time.  I  perceive,  only  now,  unfortunately, 
that  I  have  you  to  thank  for  it  all,  dear  mamma,  and  I  cannot 
express  my  gratitude  as  I  would  wish. 

I  am  glad  for  both  of  you  that  you  often  go  to  Fraulein 
Spindler's;  give  my  hearty  greetings  to  the  dear  soul.  I  often 
speak  of  her  and  the  others,  the  more  frequently  because  the 
Elector  has  no  peace,  and  something  disgraceful  about  him  is 
reported  by  the  papers  nearly  every  day. 

Please  give  my  regards  to  the  Intendant  and  Wirsing.  I 
appear  in  Rigoletto  to-morrow,  and  Lucretia  is  to  be  given  on 
Saturday,  in  which  I  am  to  sing  Orsino. 

Good  luck  to  you ! 

With  my  whole  heart  your 

LlLLI. 

(Lucretia  was  not  performed.^ 

The  Frau  director,  Rosa  Fischer,  played  tragic  parts, 
and  acted  and  spoke  as  tragically  in  daily  life  as  on  the 
stage.  She  was  always  a  tragedy  queen,  when  she  sewed 
on  clothes  for  her  children,  when  she  ate,  when  she  laughed, 
or  when  she  quarrelled,  when  she  petted  her  children  or 
when  she  cuffed  them,  when  she  wept  or  joked.  She  was 
tragic,  and  also  the  soul  of  goodness.  One  got  the  impression, 
when  she  spoke,  that  all  her  words  were  written  with  r.  If 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  in 

she  said  "Benrlin,"  she  soon  followed  it  by  speaking  of 
"Porrrtsdam."  A  lady  was  telling  her  something  in  the 
street  one  day  that  she  had  heard  from  another  person,  and 
Frau  Fischer  enquired,  "Whoeverrrr  told  you  that?"  The 
lady  quietly  replied,  "Your  husband  told  me,"  whereupon, 
through  the  length  of  the  street,  resounded  the  remark, 
"My  husband  is  an  arrrss!"  The  words  were  uttered  with 
intense  pathos,  and  the  r  in  ass  rolled  about  our  ears.  We 
could  not  refrain  from  laughing  vociferously,  and  she  was 
obliged  to  lay  aside  her  buskins,  and  join  in.  She  also  sang 
in  the  opera,  when  it  was  necessary  to  create  some  stately 
figures  (as  for  instance,  Pamela  in  Fra  Diavolo,  the  Queen 
in  Carlo  Broschi,  etc.),  which  strengthened  the  ensemble. 
Both  of  the  Fischers  were  as  kind  as  they  could  be  to  me. 
In  return,  I  sang  to  please  them  nearly  every  evening,  studied 
incessantly  day  and  night,  and  acted  also  in  plays  at  benefits. 
When  Karl  Grobeker  appeared,  by  invitation,  in  the  Zdrt- 
lichen  Verwandten,  and  no  one  could  be  found  to  do  Ottilie, 
I  learned  the  part  in  one  day.  Although  Grobeker  praised 
me  highly,  I  implored  pardon  of  Roderich  Benedix  in  my 
heart  for  all  the  deficiencies  of  my  impersonation.  This 
he  graciously  accorded  me  in  Leipsic,  where  I  learned  to 
know  him  and  spent  many  pleasant  evenings  in  his  society. 

Johanna,  the  daughter  of  my  landlady,  was  very  helpful 
to  me  in  my  nocturnal  studies,  as  she  would  repeat  the  text 
over  and  over  to  me  or  prompt  me,  while  I  went  over  it  after 
her  until  I  knew  it  perfectly  by  heart.  At  the  same  time 
I  sewed  or  altered  my  costumes,  which  had  been  made  in 
other  styles,  and  had  to  be  changed  to  fit  me.  Those  that 
Frau  Fischer  lent  me  were  ready  to  wear.  She  gave  me  for 
Zar  und  Zimmermann  a  charming  costume  of  pink  silk  with 
real  Valenciennes  lace,  that  she  had  had  specially  made  for 
me. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  season  the  comic  actor,  Schirmer, 
gave,  for  his  benefit,  the  local  farce  Spillecke  in  Paris,  in 
which  he  insisted  that  I  should  appear  also,  and,  as  there  was 


H2  My  Path  Through  Life 

no  part  in  it  for  me,  one  was  specially  written — that  of  a 
debardeur.  Nothing  worse  could  have  happened  to  me, 
for  I  hated  even  the  name,  which  seemed  to  me  to  indicate 
what  was  not  respectable.  I  fought  against  it  with  all  my 
might,  but  such  pressure  was  put  upon  me  that  my  profes- 
sional sympathy  conquered  and  I  consented  to  do  it. 

Frau  Fischer  had  assumed  the  responsibility  of  making 
me  beautiful  in  the  scene  that  had  been  introduced,  in  which 
I,  holding  a  glass  of  champagne  in  my  hand,  was  to  sing  an 
Italian  waltz.  When  I  reached  the  theatre  that  evening  I 
was  surprised  to  find,  hanging  up  for  my  use,  a  pair  of  silver 
debardeur' s  trousers  trimmed  with  green  bows,  and  a  lace 
chemisette.  Good  heavens!  that  also!  I  had  been  hoping 
to  remain  as  inconspicuous  as  possible,  and  now  it  seemed  to 
me  that  I  was  to  shine  forth  in  my  shame.  I  made  a  great 
mistake  when  I  hoped  to  be  relieved  of  the  part  after  the 
benefit,  for  all  Dantzic  now  wished  to  admire  "our  Lilli" 
in  her  silver  trousers,  and  the  farce  was  given  much  oftener 
than  we  could  have  foreseen. 

Apparently  I  had  three  benefits,  but  in  reality  I  had  one 
only.  The  management  was  always  in  money  difficulties, 
so  my  name,  as  recipient  of  a  benefit,  was  made  use  of  to 
help  out,  and,  when  they  were  in  the  worst  straits,  I  even 
went  as  a  young  and  pretty  advocate,  to  beg  for  assistance, 
which  the  rich  people  of  the  city  gave  willingly,  out  of  regard 
for  me. 

I  must  say  to  the  credit  of  the  Fischers  that,  out  of 
their  goodness  of  heart,  they  often  shared  their  last  heller 
with  poor  artists  or  members  of  the  chorus  and  orchestra. 
This  did  not  prevent  them  from  eating  oysters  and  drinking 
champagne  at  night  with  several  guests  at  the  Rathaus  or 
some  other  place,  and  every  afternoon  the  good-natured 
"Charioteer  Prill witz"  waited  in  front  of  the  house  to  take 
the  tragic  Rosa  and  the  jovial  Emil,  with  their  spoiled  "cock- 
of-the-walk"  son,  for  a  drive  of  a  couple  of  hours.  Emil 
Fischer  was  the  joy  of  life  personified.  Tears  of  pleasure 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  113 

and  merriment  would  course  down  his  cheeks,  and  I  doubt 
if  a  serious  thought  ever  came  to  him  in  his  life.  Two  more 
unequally  matched  persons  than  this  couple  would  be  hard 
to  find,  and  there  was  only  one  point  they  had  in  common — 
neither  had  learned  economy. 

I  made  many  dear  friends  in  Dantzic.  There  was  Dr. 
Piwko's  charming  house,  and  it  was  his  mother-in-law  who 
gave  me  my  first  laurel  wreath.  There  were  the  Ulrichs, 
who  petted  and  cared  for  me,  and  every  morning,  before 
the  rehearsal,  my  second  breakfast  was  ready  for  me  at  their 
house;  everything  that  I  could  wish  for  was  anticipated, 
and  everybody  spoiled  me  thoroughly.  But  I  lacked  the 
talent  for  becoming  spoiled.  I  saw  only  proofs  of  true  friend- 
ship in  these  acts,  and  the  thought  never  came  that  it  was 
a  matter  of  course. 

Traits  of  touching  interest  in  me  were  displayed  by  this 
person  or  that.  Rosa  Fischer,  for  example,  wanted  to  adorn 
me  with  her  jewels — that  had  just  been  pawned  again — for 
the  opera  of  the  Krondiamanten,  so  that  the  "others  would 
burst  with  envy."  But  where  was  she  to  get  the  money? 
The  cash  box  was  empty  as  usual.  Then  came  an  offer 
from  Dr.  Piwko  to  redeem  the  ornaments,  and  I  was  able 
to  dazzle  that  evening  in  real  jewels,  while  Frau  Fischer 
beamed  from  her  box,  and  watched  the  other  singers  "burst " 
with  jealousy. 

People  on  all  sides  exerted  themselves  to  please  me  and 
to  entertain  me  in  the  old  Dantzic  families,  to  which  efforts 
the  Privy  Councillor  Spittel,  with  his  wife  and  children, 
contributed  to  the  greatest  extent.  The  young  lads  from 
twelve  to  eighteen  years  old,  who  were  the  sons  of  these 
friends,  used  to  promenade  daily  before  my  window  in  every 
possible  uniform,  and  would  line  up,  present  arms,  and  shout 
hurrah!  It  was  as  nice  as  it  could  be;  admiration  for  me 
began  with  the  grandparents  and  continued  down  to  the 
grandchildren,  without  passing  over  a  single  member  of  the 
family. 


ii4  My  Path  Through  Life 

Immediately  after  my  first  appearances  I  received  costly 
flowers  from  some  person  who  long  remained  unknown  to 

me,  but,  when  a  certain  Count  D wrote  to  me  of  his  wish 

to  be  allowed  to  introduce  himself,  I  did  not  need  to  guess 
further.  I  asked  my  friends  whether  I  should  receive  him 
or  not,  and  they  told  me  by  all  means  to  consent.  So  Count 

D appeared,  and  I  found  him  to  be  a  quiet,  earnest  man. 

I  asked  him,  nevertheless,  not  to  repeat  his  visit,  as  it  might 
be  misconstrued  in  Dantzic,  and  he  left,  promising  not  to 
seek  to  call  on  me  again.  I  could  not  stop  him  sending  me 
flowers,  however,  nor  prevent  a  daily  promenade  before  my 
window  of  his  horse  and  foals  led  by  boys.  I  rewarded  him 
for  his  honest  admiration  and  his  manly  bearing  to  the 
extent  of  writing  him,  through  Fraulein  Hoppe,  a  week 
before  I  left  Dantzic,  and  when  I  had  moved  back  to  her 
home,  that  he  might  come  to  say  good-bye  to  me.  I  heard 
from  him  again  only  after  the  war,  when  he  was  living  as  a 
convalescent,  after  his  leg  had  been  shot  to  pieces,  with  his 

family  at  D .  I  could  not  return  his  love,  so  he  received 

only  words  of  pity  from  me,  and  they  hurt  him,  but  I  suffered, 
also,  from  sympathy  for  the  fine  young  man,  of  whose 
earnestness  and  excellent  character  I  was  convinced. 

The  title  of  Countess  held  no  attraction  for  me,  my  voca- 
tion was  everything.  I  desired  to  advance,  to  attain,  to 
become  and  to  continue  independent.  I  heard  of  his  death 
only  too  soon,  from  his  own  family,  and  they  thanked  me 
warmly  for  the  tact  with  which  I  had  treated  the 

passion  that  Count  D had  felt  for  me  until  he 

died. 

At  my  benefits  I  was  literally  overwhelmed  with  flowers 
from  every  side,  and  the  public  really  loved  me.  I  have 
always  remained  loyal  and  grateful  to  my  Dantzic  friends 
for  all  their  affection  and  consideration;  I  have  never  for- 
gotten them  nor  they  me.  I  still  continue  to  be  in  close 
communication  with  all  who  are  yet  living,  and  in  thought 
with  those  who  have  passed  from  this  life. 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  115 

On  my  Mother's  Birthday 

DANTZIC,  March  27,  1869. 
DEAREST  LITTLE  MAMMA, 

I  have  thought  of  you  all  day  long  and  have  been  with  you  in 
spirit.  Did  Riezl  wait  for  your  birthday,  instead  of  leaving  on 
Friday?  That  would  have  been  unpardonable.  I  have  spent 
the  whole  of  to-day  at  the  rehearsal  of  Die  beiden  Schiitzen, 
and  am  fearfully  tired,  but  you  shall  see  my  good  intentions,  at 
least,  in  my  writing  you  to-night.  I  hope  you  have  spent  the 
day  as  delightfully  as  I  did  yesterday. 

We  had  the  finest  weather  yet,  warm,  clear,  without  wind,  as 
though  the  spring  chose  yesterday  for  its  entrance.  I  could  not 
have  passed  Good  Friday  better  than  in  God's  out-of-doors. 
Fraulein  Eichhorn,  our  pretty  second  soubrette,  took  me,  with 
some  of  her  friends,  up  to  the  outermost  dikes.  I  was  speechless 
from  rapture,  mamma.  What  an  impression  of  the  infinite 
universe !  The  sea  was  deep-blue  and  in  its  fullest  beauty,  and 
the  two  rivers,  the  Weichsel  and  the  Motlau,  that  flow  in  great 
curves  around  Dantzic,  were  like  light-blue  ribbons.  Many 
boats  had  gone  out,  and  one  saw  their  sails  gleam  in  the  sunlight. 
The  sky  was  blue,  still,  and  solemn,  the  city  was  quiet,  and  the 
forest  was  at  peace.  The  trees  and  shrubs  were  beginning  to 
blossom,  and  the  earth  was  green.  "This  was  the  Lord's  day" 
in  its  fullest  beauty. 

I  went  to  the  sea  in  the  afternoon  with  Auguste  Baison  (the 
daughter  of  your  old  friend  and  sister  of  Riezl's  godfather),  who 
has  been  filling  a  special  engagement  in  drama  for  a  week  past. 
We  went  from  Brosen,  first  through  the  forest,  then  along  the 
shore  to  a  ferry,  which  we  took  across,  and,  by  following  the  Mole, 
reached  the  Arcona,  where  I  had  been  recently,  as  I  wrote  you. 

We  were  seen  and  at  once  called  for.  After  we  were  on  board 
we  first  had  to  eat  something,  were  then  wrapped  in  big  sailors' 
coats — a  small  boat  was  ready — and  were  rowed  for  an  hour  and 
a  half  on  the  ocean  by  two  officers  and  four  cadets.  We  had  a 
wonderful  spectacle;  the  moon  rose,  lighting  up  the  sea  and  our 
boat.  It  was  intoxicatingly  lovely,  and  not  cold  at  all.  We 
returned  on  board  at  eight  o'clock,  took  supper  there,  and,  at 
ten,  were  taken  to  the  railroad  by  two  "  sea  monsters."  Auguste 


n6  My  Path  Through  Life 

Baison  was  actually  a  little  seasick  on  the  ocean  trip,  but  I  kept 
up  bravely. 

The  longer  I  am  here,  and  the  nearer  approaches  the  time  for 
departure,  the  more  regret  I  feel  that  I  must  take  leave  of  the 
beautiful  nature  in  these  parts.  Leipsic  will  not  give  me  that, 
aside  from  anything  else;  I  shall  lose  the  enjoyment  of  nature, 
and  I  shall  miss  it  dreadfully.  I  beg  you  to  free  yourself  in  three 
weeks,  dear  mamma,  and  I  promise  to  take  you  away  then. 
Will  you?  I  must  close,  for  it  is  evening,  and  all  sorts  of  trouble- 
some thoughts  come  to  me.  Sleep  well  at  the  beginning  of  your 
sixty-fourth  year.  I  kiss  you  many  thousands  of  times. 

Your 

LILLI. 

N.  B.  I  forgot  to  write  you  that  I  have  recently  been  to  see 
Princess  Marie  of  Hohenzollern.  She  lives  opposite  the  Fischers, 
nods  to  me  often  six  times  a  day,  and  is  pathetically  sweet  when 
I  go  to  see  her.  She  has  educated  Marie  Seebach,  or  rather 
has  taken  a  great  interest  in  her  education. 

When,  as  I  was  once  taking  a  walk  with  the  Ulrichs,  a 
grey  line  against  the  far  horizon  was  pointed  out  to  me  as 
"the  sea,  the  ocean,"  I  could  not  grasp  the  thought,  for  it 
did  not  fit  in  with  my  expectations.  Later  I  saw  it  near 
by,  walked  on  the  shore,  and  fell  in  love  with  this  ocean  for 
which  I  yearned  constantly.  When  the  season  came  to  an 
end,  I  stayed  a  week  longer  to  be  of  use  to  Frau  Fischer,  who 
was  expecting  a  baby,  and  then  I  was  guilty  of  a  piece  of 
shocking  stupidity. 

"I  fell  in  the  water,"  is  the  entry  in  my  diary  for  May 
n,  1869.  I  can  still  recall  this  noteworthy  event  in  every 
detail;  it  was  more  comic  than  tragic,  but  it  might  have 
ended  very  sadly. 

Herr  and  Frau  Schwabe,  friends  of  my  landlady,  invited 
me  to  visit  Die  Grille  (a  small  war  vessel  that  Herr  Schwabe 
supplied  with  provisions),  which  was  very  interesting  to 
me.  After  the  officers,  with  the  greatest  affability,  had 
shown  us  all  that  was  noteworthy  on  the  ship,  we  took  our 
departure,  and  were  accompanied  by  the  paymaster  and  Heir 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  117 

Meding  to  the  Mole,  where  the  Schwabes  intended  to  hire 
a  boat  that  I  might  have  another  trip  on  the  ocean.  A  boat 
was  at  the  bulwark,  but  the  ferry-man  did  not  have  the 
right  to  take  out  the  small  craft,  so  he  offered  to  row  us  to  the 
pilot  station,  from  where  we  would  be  taken  further.  Herr 
Schwabe,  who  was  young  and  very  strong,  sprang  into  the 
boat  first,  so  as  to  help  us  ladies.  In  following  him  I  was 
so  incautious  as  to  prop  myself  with  my  hand  against  the 
bulwark,  which  pushed  the  boat  away.  Herr  Schwabe,  who 
still  held  me  by  one  hand,  saw  the  peril  and  clung  to  my 
arm,  while  I  looked  the  danger  quietly  in  the  face,  but  at 
that  moment  I  fell  backwards  into  the  stream,  hand  in  hand 
with  my  knight.  I  could  not  swim,  unfortunately,  and, 
like  Frau  Fluth,  I  asked  myself,  "How  ought  I  to  act?" 
Mamma  had  always  desired  in  Prague  that  we  should  learn 
to  swim,  but  she  did  not  have  ten  gulden  to  spare  for  it,  and 
a  relative,  who  had  promised  me  the  money,  never  sent  it. 

My  companion  in  trouble,  who  could  swim  as  little  as  I, 
held  me  stoutly.  When  we  rose  to  the  surface,  he  drew  me 
rapidly  under  again  with  him.  I  swallowed  as  best  I  could, 
for,  as  I  have  said,  I  did  not  know  how  one  should  behave 
when  drowning,  but  I  was  still  quite  free  from  excitement. 
Suddenly  I  was  again  above  water,  saw  a  boat  coming  with 
several  men  in  it,  and  knew  that  we  should  be  saved.  I 
was  able  to  hold  firmly  to  a  pole  that  was  reached  out  to  me, 
until  I  had  been  drawn  so  close  to  the  boat  that  I  could  hook 
my  right  elbow  over  its  side. 

Now  I  heard  the  cries  of  the  poor  young  wife,  who  stood 
on  the  bulwark  wringing  her  hands  and  wailing,  "Save  my 
husband,  only  save  my  husband."  One  could  pardon  such 
selfishness  in  the  poor  thing,  but  I  had  to  laugh  out  loud 
when  my  fat  knight  most  ungallantly  shouted,  "Save  me, 
only  me!"  and  I  was  quite  content  that  he  was  towed  first 
into  the  boat.  In  the  meantime,  I  fished  my  black  silk 
mantilla  and  my  hat  out  of  the  water.  At  last,  it  was  my 
turn  to  be  pulled  out,  but  that  was  easier  said  than,  done. 


ii8  My  Path  Through  Life 

My  long  summer  dress  had  wound  itself  about  my  legs  like 
a  snake;  all  the  six  pilots  laboured  in  vain  to  lift  me,  until 
they  succeeded  by  dint  of  superhuman  exertions,  and  I 
stood  once  more  in  the  boat  and  unwound  my  clothes. 
Frau  Schwabe,  who  beheld  her  husband  safe,  called  to  me, 
"Good  heavens,  Fraulein  Lehmann,  the  people  of  Dantzic 
will  stone  me  if  you  have  lost  your  voice!"  A  strong  yodel 
from  me  assured  her  that  she  might  safely  return  to  Dantzic. 

We  were  now  taken  ashore,  our  things  stripped  off  in  a 
little  inn,  and  we  were  provided  with  dry  clothing  and 
packed  into  huge  beds.  I  then  noticed  Paymaster  Meding 
for  the  first  time,  from  whose  clothes  water  was  pouring  in 
streams.  He  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and 
people  were  trying  to  cut  off  his  long  water-proof  boots,  as 
they  could  not  be  removed  otherwise.  The  situation  puzzled 
me  more  and  more,  until  it  was  explained  to  me  that  Meding, 
at  the  risk  of  his  own  life,  had  sprung  after  us  in  order  to  save 
us  both.  Of  course  I  knew  nothing  about  it  when  I  was 
under  water,  and,  when  I  was  hanging  on  by  the  boat  and 
could  see  clearly,  Meding  had  already  swam  to  land.  A 
rescue  medal  rewarded  him  for  his  noble  deed,  but  what 
does  that  amount  to  as  a  reward  for  such  an  act.  I  did  not 
have  an  opportunity,  either,  to  show  him  my  deep  grati- 
tude for  that  which  he  had  done  for  me,  who  was  a  stranger 
to  him,  as  I  did  not  realise  until  long  afterwards  how  the 
matter  might  have  ended  for  all  three  of  us. 

After  we  had  been  warmed  up  with  coffee,  and  the  two 
gentlemen  had  gone  to  Dantzic  to  get  clothes  for  me,  we 
women  remained  at  Neufahrwasser,  and  even  went  to  walk 
on  the  beach  after  we  had  somewhat  recovered.  The  report 
of  the  accident  and  our  happy  rescue  had  rapidly  spread 
through  the  place,  and,  just  as  we  were  about  to  climb  into 
the  hotel  beds  in  the  j  oiliest  humour,  we  were  surprised  by 
a  charming  serenade,  performed  for  us  by  the  local  men's 
chorus.  I  could  not  sleep ;  in  the  first  place  I  was  suffering 
from  my  throat,  and  then  I  could  not  get  rid  of  the  vision 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  119 

of  drowning.  The  thought  came  to  me,  for  the  first  time, 
of  how  badly  it  might  have  turned  out — not  for  me,  I  had 
been  brave  and  calm,  but  for  my  poor  dear  mother,  who 
would  have  taken  to  heart  the  loss  of  one  of  her  children  in 
such  fashion,  and  I  thanked  God  and  my  rescuer  from  the 
bottom  of  my  soul.  Some  months  later  my  watch  suddenly 
stopped.  When  the  case  was  opened  a  tiny  drop  of  water 
fell  out,  and  all  the  inside  had  rusted,  which  gives  one  some 
idea  of  how  long  I  had  been  in  the  water  and  clinging  to 
the  boat. 

During  my  first  visit  to  the  Arcona,  I  became  acquainted 
with  Adolf  Mensing,  who  was  then  Lieutenant-Captain  in 
the  navy,  with  whom  I  formed  a  strong,  true  friendship, 
that  still  gives  us  happiness  and  pleasure  to-day,  as  I  write 
these  words,  after  a  period  of  forty-five  years.  We  may 
look  back  with  pride  on  the  loyalty  that  has  preserved  our 
mutual  affection  through  joy  and  sorrow.  I  recall,  in  this 
connection,  an  unpremeditated  visit  which  we,  together 
with  Auguste  Baison,  paid  the  ship,  and  how  they  rowed  us 
out  to  sea  by  moonlight.  I  rewarded  the  youngest  naval 
heroes,  who  rowed  us,  with  some  little  coins,  pfennige,  or 
"Duttchen,"  as  they  called  the  groschen  pieces  there,  which 
was  all  I  had  about  me  at  the  moment.  Even  after  thirty 
years  I  still  received,  here  and  there,  from  the  men  I  gave 
them  to,  a  message  from  hither  and  yon,  accompanied  once 
by  one  of  these  little  pieces  of  money,  as  a  proof  that  it  had 
been  treasured  a  long  time. 

Dantzic  had  become  very  dear  to  me,  and  not  only 
because  of  its  many  kind  people.  The  old  architecture 
interested  me;  it  looked  so  mysterious  within,  and  put  me 
so  much  in  mind  of  home.  The  high  gabled  houses,  with 
their  flights  of  steps  and  vestibules,  shaded  by  ancient  trees, 
the  quiet  old  streets,  the  churches  and  squares,  the  Rathaus 
and  the  Artushof ,  the  life  of  the  harbour,  where  one  felt  the 
breath  of  other  worlds,  the  attractive  surroundings,  and 
finally  the  sea,  which  then  seemed  boundless  to  me, — how 


120  My  Path  Through  Life 

long  did  I  yearn  for  it  all!  With  my  emotional  nature  I 
never  could  feel  at  home  in  prosaic  Leipsic. 

And  Berlin?  In  1870,  when  I  made  my  entrance,  it  was 
still  "a  small  fishing  village,"  as  the  natives  called  it,  where 
each  person  knew  every  one  else  and  the  whole  city,  one  might 
say,  formed  a  single  family,  and  I  liked  it  far  better  than  I  do 
to-day.  Now,  a  Berliner  is  a  stranger  in  Berlin,  and  only 
the  stranger  feels  at  home.  I  have  grown  close  indeed  to 
Berlin  and  the  Berliners,  and  all  my  interests  are  rooted  in 
its  spiritual  heights,  but  my  heart  still  clings  to  Prague, 
with  its  churches,  palaces,  and  bridges — the  historic,  beautiful 
Prague,  although  it,  too,  has  become  different  from  what  it 
was  then,  as  everything  changes  in  the  course  of  time.  All 
cities  have  to  mourn  seriously  for  what  "once  was,"  no 
matter  what  they  are  named. 

I  received  the  disturbing  news  in  Dantzic  that  my  sister 
had  overworked  herself  in  Leipsic,  and  had  gone  to  the 
country  to  recuperate,  but  now  she  was  feeling  better.  I 
saw  from  their  letters  that  mamma  and  Riezl  were  very 
unhappy  about  it,  so  on  May  I2th,  at  night,  I  said  good-bye 
to  Dantzic,  and  went  to  Prague  to  clasp  my  dear  mother 
in  my  arms.  We  had  written  each  other  every  day,  she 
knew  every  step  that  I  had  taken,  and  I  knew  all  about  her, 
and  when  a  letter  was  delayed  there  was  great  un- 
happiness  on  both  sides.  All  our  letters  have  been 
preserved. 

Our  reunion  was  indeed  joyous;  all  mamma's  cares  were 
ended,  and,  during  the  entire  winter,  I  was  able  to  assist 
my  dear  mother,  to  make  her  comfortable  and  to  take  care 
of  her.  I  had  been  very  saving,  in  spite  of  all  requirements, 
and,  when  I  went  to  Leipsic,  had  laid  by  a  little  sum,  which 
consisted  of  one  hundred  thalers,  and  this  was  the  foundation 
of  my  fortune.  I  had  established  a  good  system  of  saving, 
for  I  did  not  put  aside  what  was  left  over,  but  took  out  of 
every  month's  wages  a  certain  part  to  be  saved,  and  forced 
myself  to  get  along  with  what  remained.  I  have  taught 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  121 

others  to  do  this,  and  have  been  thanked  by  those  who 
followed  the  good  advice. 

Mamma  should  now  have  gone  to  Leipsic  at  once  with 
me,  but  we  had  not  included  Director  Wirsing  in  our  calcula- 
tions, who  would  not  set  her  free  until  a  substitute  was 
found.  This  took  longer  that  we  suspected.  The  salary 
had  not  been  increased  in  sixteen  years,  and  Wirsing  would 
not  think  of  raising  it  for  that  position,  whereby  he  delayed 
our  reunion  for  nearly  a  whole  year.  A  substitute  was  found 
at  last  in  mamma's  pupil,  Stanek,  when  he  changed  from  the 
Bohemian  to  the  German  Theatre. 

Mamma  was  not  left  alone  during  the  winter,  as  she 
found  an  attentive  friend  in  the  young  journalist,  Karl  Felix 
Kohler,  the  son  of  a  friend,  who  had  also  admired  me  for  years. 
I  had  to  play  doctor  for  him  likewise  once  against  my  will. 
Kohler  was  extremely  cultured,  clever,  and  eloquent,  wrote 
well,  and  kept  me  supplied  with  the  best  literature.  Through 
him  I  learned  to  know  Scheffel's  Aventiure,  a  book  which 
grew  into  my  heart,  and  was  peculiarly  sympathetic  to  me. 
The  first  gulden  that  I  earned  were  spent  on  Goethe,  Shake- 
speare, and  Schiller,  in  whom  I  have  found  enough  meat  for 
a  lifetime,  even  were  I  to  live  a  thousand  years. 

Kohler,  who  formerly  came  only  rarely  to  see  us,  now 
called  every  day  to  bring  my  mother  all  the  newspapers 
that  spoke  of  me,  to  comfort  her,  and  to  show  her  attention. 
He  even  came  to  Leipsic  once  to  hear  me  in  the  Hugenotten, 
and  we  continued  to  meet  often  in  Berlin  and  Vienna,  where, 
as  responsible  editor  of  the  Neue  Freie  Presse,  he  wrote 
leading  political  articles  for  more  than  thirty  years.  He 
won  great  fame  as  a  Shakespearean  scholar,  but  he  was  an 
excessively  modest  man  who  always  hid  his  light  under  a 
bushel.  He  predicted  to  my  mother  a  great  future  for  me, 
more  because  of  my  character  rather  than  my  voice  or 
talents,  as  what  he  had  seen  of  me  up  to  then  was  not  over- 
whelming. 

I  am  impelled  to  insert  here  one  of  this  friend's  letters, 


122  My  Path  Through  Life 

that  is  distinguished  by  his  noble  habit  of  thought,  his  deep 
sentiment,  and  great  susceptibility  to  high  art. 

HONOURED  FRIEND, 

I  had  hoped  to  permit  myself  to  express  my  thanks  to  you 
personally  this  afternoon,  but  was  engaged,  unfortunately, 
about  four  o'clock. 

Suffer  me,  therefore,  to  thank  you  in  this  way  for  last  evening. 
You  will  understand  me  aright  if  I  do  not  venture  to  add  a  single 
word  of  admiration,  for  I  am  too  sensible  how  little  anything 
I  could  say  could  reach  the  heights  of  your  art.  I  allow  myself 
only  to  remark  that  you  know  what  a  high  opinion  I  always  had 
of  you,  but  yesterday  I  recognised  how  little  conception  I  ever 
had  of  what  you  are.  It  was  a  revelation  to  me.  I  was  moved 
and  shaken  to  the  depths,  and  received  an  impression  that  will 
never  be  effaced  while  I  live.  It  was  my  sixtieth  birthday.  At 
the  same  time,  you  must  reflect  that  I  heard  Tristan  und  Isolde 
yesterday  for  the  first  time.  One  cannot  have  that  experience 
repeated.  I  rejoice,  with  the  full  and  complete  share  I  have 
taken  in  your  destiny,  that  it  was  granted  you  to  see  the  hopes 
and  expectations  of  your  youth  fulfilled  so  richly  and  beautifully. 

To  have  known  you  personally  is  the  most  precious  memory 
of  my  life,  and  will  ever  be  so.  That  you,  at  the  pinnacle  of  your 
fame,  have  not  forgotten  me  but  think  of  me  as  a  friend,  is  some- 
thing I  know  how  to  value,  and  I  thank  you  for  it.  I  write  you 
this  because  I  might  not  be  able  to  say  it  to  you  without  being 
overcome  by  my  profound  emotion,  and  that  I  know  you  do  not 
like.  If  you  will  allow  me  I  will  call,  however,  on  one  of  your 
free  days,  in  order  to  see  you  before  your  departure. 

With  unfaltering  devotion, 

K.  F.  KOHLER. 
VIENNA,  May  23,  1898. 

I  visited  him  at  Vienna,  and  he  called  on  me  frequently 
and  always  formally  as  was  ever  his  way,  for  Karl  Felix 
Kohler  was  a  born  cavalier.  His  dear  wife  wrote  me  as 
follows  after  his  death. 

He  spoke  of  you  constantly,  most-honoured  lady,  as  of  a 
vision.  You  were  a  strong  influence  in  his  life.  At  the  very 


Dantzic,  1868,  1869  123 

last  he  said  of  you,  "She  was  the  highest  and  the  most  beautiful 
thing  I  have  ever  known!" 

A  dear  woman  friend  laid  on  his  grave  the  final  greeting 
of  old  friendship  in  the  form  of  a  bunch  of  fragrant  roses. 
I  miss  him  more,  as  my  memory  dwells  upon  him,  than  I  can 
express,  especially  as  I  did  not  recognise  early  enough  his 
great  inner  worth. 


Leipsic 
1869-1870 

I 

'"PHE  symbol  of  the  sun  with  its  pointed  rays,  cut  out  of 
1  tin  and  shining  with  old  gold,  ornamented  the  gable 
of  an  ancient,  square  house,  entirely  detached,  on  one  side  of 
which  the  Pleisse  merrily  turned  a  mill.  One  storied,  with 
mansard  rooms  above,  it  stood  on  the  Ranstadter  Steinweg 
in  Klein-Paris,  that  educated  its  people.  That  was  just 
why  I  had  gone  there;  I  wanted  to  learn. 

A  family  named  Berl,  that  was  famous  in  artistic  circles, 
kept  a  pension  for  artists  in  the  mansard  apartment,  half 
for  artistic,  half  for  economic  reasons,  and  their  boarders 
felt  unusually  much  at  home  with  the  popular  proprietors. 
It  is  an  odd  thing  that  my  mother  had  lived  in  the  same 
house  in  her  time,  though  not  with  the  Berls.  Richard  Kahle 
and  his  mother  lived  there,  and  now  I,  also,  went  thither;  and 
I  could  not  have  found  a  better  place.  The  oldest  daughter, 
Toni,  was  the  heroine  at  the  Darmstadt  Theatre ;  the  second, 
Anna,  lived  with  her,  and  the  third,  Angeli,  was  the  good 
fairy  of  the  house.  She  could  do  anything,  and  was  specially 
skilled  in  managing  people. 

Mother  Berl,  still  a  pretty  woman  though  already  some- 
what shaky,  kept  in  her  provision  cupboards  little  bottles 
that  were  labelled  jokingly  "Poison  for  Children!"  to  which 
she  sometimes  applied  herself  surreptitiously.  Father  Berl 
was  not  made  of  asbestos  nor  was  he  clean  in  his  habits,  but 

124 


Leipsic,  1869-1870  125 

he  was  a  kind  old  soul  like  his  wife,  and  was  the  father  of 
everybody.  I  was  put  into  two  doll-like  rooms,  that  I 
found  very  cosy,  namely,  a  tiny  living  room  and  a  bed- 
chamber furnished  with  a  square  piano  shaped  like  a  table 
and  some  old-fashioned  pieces.  Doll  windows  and  curtains 
completed  the  comfort  of  the  rooms,  and  a  narrow  iron  stove 
heated  them  both  at  the  same  time.  It  became  unbearably 
warm  as  soon  as  it  glowed,  which  it  did  from  the  moment  it 
was  lighted,  and  the  instant  the  fire  went  out,  the  water 
froze  on  the  washstand.  On  the  other  hand,  the  apartment 
enjoyed  the  advantage  of  teaching  its  occupant,  gratis,  in 
summer  the  operation  of  lead  roofs  without  a  journey  to 
Venice,  and  this  was  no  easier  to  bear  than  the  rheumatism- 
inducing  cold  of  the  winter,  that  was  unconquerable  in  the 
attic  rooms.  Everything  had  been  decorated  with  gorgeous 
plants  and  flowers  by  my  sister's  fiance,  Heir  Fritz  Helbig, 
with  whom  I  then  became  acquainted,  and  I  was  now  pre- 
pared for  whatever  might  happen. 

I  soon  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  the  theatrical  life  of 
Leipsic,  and  was  greeted  cordially  on  every  side.  I  felt,  at 
once,  the  exchange  of  the  antiquated,  unbeatable  theatre  at 
Dantzic  for  the  splendid,  convenient,  big  opera-house  to  be 
an  unspeakable  blessing.  It  could  not  be  called  "a  great 
period, "  however,  when  I  look  back  upon  it.  Much,  indeed, 
of  great  excellence  was  prepared  and  performed  with  care 
and  understanding,  but  not  one  of  all  the  separate  produc- 
tions has  remained  in  my  memory  as  especially  fine.  My 
explanation  of  this  is  that  none  of  the  singers  could  have 
been  an  interesting  or  artistic  personality.  Only  Frau 
Bertha  Ehnn,  of  the  Vienna  Court  Opera,  who  appeared  in 
a  short  engagement  as  Mignon,  has  remained  a  vivid 
recollection. 

Frau  Peschka-Leutner,  an  admirable  colorature  singer, 
less  eminent  as  an  actress,  was  rightly  applauded  by  the 
public  and  the  press.  I  had  been  engaged  in  her  place 
because  she  wanted  to  go  to  Dresden,  but  she  thought  better 


126  My  Path  Through  Life 

of  it  afterward.  We  were  constrained  for  a  long  time,  as 
she  was  mistress  of  all  colorature  parts,  while  I,  with  my 
youthful  vigour,  brought  elements  into  the  ensemble  which 
she  lacked.  Later  on,  the  tension  ended  happily  in  esteem 
and  the  most  cordial  comradeship.  The  ensemble  was 
always  good,  and  the  chorus  and  orchestra  were  excellent. 
The  conductor,  Schmidt,  as  already  stated,  was  at  first 
very  hateful  and  then  extremely  amiable.  He  held  daily 
rehearsals  with  piano,  from  nine  o'clock  on,  to  which  he  came 
regularly  half  an  hour  late.  He  called  them  for  the  most 
played-out  operas,  did  not  overlook  a  single  measure,  and 
I  heard,  subsequently,  that  he  was  nervous  before  every 
opera.  I  found  no  models  in  Leipsic,  but  there  was  order 
and  discipline,  and,  beside  Gustav  Schmidt,  I  had  a  very 
excellent  manager  in  Heinrich  Seidl,  who  employed  my 
abilities  in  the  finest  way,  and  to  whom  I  owe  a  great  deal. 
He  went  through  with  me  every  r61e  that  he  did  not  think 
sufficiently  worked  out,  and  that  afforded  me  a  wide  view 
over  the  field  of  labour  in  my  profession. 

When  I  had  established  myself  fully  in  Leipsic,  I  was 
drawn  into  many  of  the  Gewandhaus  concerts,  also,  which 
then  was  counted  amongst  the  highest  musical  honours. 
Master  David,  who  played  the  first  violin  at  the  concerts, 
gave  me  the  piano  score,  with  a  dedication,  after  the  per- 
formance of  Mendelssohn's  Athalia.  Dr.  Carl  Reinecke  led 
the  concerts.  I  was  on  good  terms  with  him,  and  he  was 
really  very  dear  and  kind  towards  me,  and  continued  to  be 
afterwards  when  I  was  invited  to  go  to  the  Gewandhaus 
concerts  from  Berlin.  Once  only  he  had  a  "bad  finger," 
when  I  was  to  sing  the  Lieder  of  Robert  Franz,  with  whom 
he  was  not  friendly,  and  which  he  should  have  accompanied, 
and  Professor  Reinhold  Hermann,  my  regular  accompanist, 
had  to  be  brought,  accordingly,  from  Berlin.  That  was  all 
the  better,  as  nothing  could  be  more  fatal  to  me  than  a  single 
grinding  out  of  my  songs.  I  was  accustomed  to  be  com- 
pletely at  one  with  the  accompanist,  through  long  previous 


Leipsic,  1869-1870  127 

study  together,  and  to  give  the  audience  a  perfect  whole, 
and  not  even  Reinecke's  art  could  have  made  that  possible 
with  a  single  rehearsal. 

Even  when  we  were  still  at  Prague  we  sang  Robert 
Franz's  Lieder,  which  Riezl  had  sent  from  Leipsic.  Fritz 
Helbig,  to  whom  she  was  engaged,  was  an  intimate  friend  of 
Franz,  and  it  was  largely  through  his  efforts  that  the  compli- 
mentary present  of  money,  which  was  made  to  Franz  in  1873, 
reached  the  largest  possible  amount.  He  managed  Franz's 
property  until  his  death,  and  even  afterwards,  for  the  benefit 
of  his  children.  Helbig  left  several  chests  full  of  Franz's 
letters,  which  are  chiefly  of  a  business  nature,  however,  but 
that  yet  contain  much  material  so  interesting  that  it  is  to 
be  hoped  they  will  be  published  some  day.  Fritz  Helbig 
was  very  musical,  sang  delightfully,  and  was  also  a  close 
friend  of  the  well-known  concert  singer,  Robert  Wiede- 
mann,  who  is  now  in  his  eighty-fourth  year,  and  of  all  the 
other  Leipsic  artists. 

It  is  not  strange  that  incessant  propaganda  was  made  at 
Helbig's  house  for  Franz's  music,  and  so,  we,  more  than  any 
others,  came  to  sing  his  Lieder.  That  I  am  still  able  to-day, 
after  forty-three  years,  to  throw  myself  into  his  songs  with 
all  my  soul,  is  attributable  to  the  deep  feeling  that  I  bring, 
unchanged,  to  his  precious  Lieder,  which  I  have  made  my 
own  property,  and  which  I  would  like  to  preserve  for  artists 
in  a  new  generation  out  of  the  bombast  of  the  unnatural 
and  unmusical  hodgepodge,  which  I  cannot  listen  to 
without  rebellion. 

Unfortunately,  I  did  not  know  Robert  Franz  personally. 
When  I  say  of  his  English  Lieder,  that  the  original  text  suits 
the  music  almost  better  than  when  they  are  sung  to  German 
words,  it  is  what  he  has  declared  himself,  as  I  read  later.  I 
could  not  render  my  grateful  thanks  any  more  in  tones  to 
their  creator,  but,  to  my  great  joy,  it  is  still  granted  me  to 
express  thus  to  his  children  and  my  audiences  what  I  feel 
for  his  works. 


128  My  Path  Through  Life 

David  did  a  very  extraordinary  thing  in  Fidelio,  when 
he  played  in  the  opera,  for  he  rose  to  lead  the  violins  in 
the  violin  passages  of  the  great  Leonore  overture  (which 
was  given  here,  also,  in  the  entr'acte,  contrary,  as  usual,  to 
my  finest  sensibilities),  and  diverted  the  attention  of  the 
whole  audience  from  the  composition  to  Herr  David.  It 
was  an  unheard-of  thing,  and  I  can  now  hardly  believe  that 
it  was  tolerated  in  Klein-Paris. 

I  was  on  excellent  terms  with  Heinrich  Laube,  as  I  have 
always  been  with  all  seriously-minded  souls,  no  matter  how 
prickly  their  shells.  In  their  roughness  I  have  seen  only 
the  proper  recognition  of  the  very  first  necessary  and  un- 
avoidable condition  of  art,  which  they  must  demand  of 
every  one  who  would  or  should  work  with  or  under  them, 
that  is,  devotional  earnestness  and  complete  surrender  of 
all  their  powers.  Anything  else  is  an  unprofitable  waste  of 
time  and  strength,  of  which  so  many  are  guilty. 

Laube  took  a  great  interest  in  my  talent,  often  praised 
me  in  old  or  new  r61es,  and  was  especially  satisfied  with  my 
dramatic  work,  in  which  I  earnestly  strove  to  perfect  myself, 
receiving  much  help  from  Heinrich  Behr,  the  director  of 
opera,  and  from  Manager  Seidl. 

In  that  connection,  I  must  not  forget  Frau  Gunther- 
Bachmann,  who  had  once  been  a  famous  soubrette  at  the 
time  mamma  was  in  Leipsic,  and  who  now  gave  the  most 
finely-characterised  studies,  that  were  gems  in  their  way,  of 
comic  old  women.  There  was  one  old  wardrobe  woman 
I  was  delighted  to  find,  who  had  formerly  dressed  my  mother, 
and  who  now  helped  me.  Frau  Barwinkel,  as  she  was  called, 
distinguished  herself  especially  on  the  occasion  of  the  engage- 
ment of  Frau  Artdt.  A  kind  of  dressing-room  had  been 
built  on  the  stage,  in  which  everything  lay  ready  for  the  quick 
change  of  costume  Angela  has  to  make  in  the  last  act  of 
the  Schwarze  Domino.  Frau  Barwinkel,  however,  saw  with 
horror  that  Frau  Art6t  was  going  off  on  the  wrong  side, 
so  she  rushed  across  and  said,  breathlessly,  to  the  singer, 


Leipsic,  1869-1870  129 

who,  she  had  heard,  spoke  only  French,  "Madame,  schank- 
schemant  vis-a-vis!" 

It  was  Frau  Gunther-Bachmann,  a  woman  of  few  words 
and  one  who  held  herself  aloof  from  everything,  who  set 
me  free  from  stupid  superstition  at  the  very  outset  of  my 
career.  She  was  in  my  dressing-room  when  the  wardrobe 
woman  put  my  shoes  on  the  table.  "That  will  bring  me  bad 
luck,"  I  heard  myself  say,  repeating  what  I  had  so  often 
heard  from  others.  "My  dear  child,"  she  said  kindly, 
"you  are  now  twenty ;  what  will  you  be  at  fifty  if  you  believe 
all  such  foolishness?"  From  that  moment,  I  emancipated 
myself  from  superstition  of  every  sort,  for  I  saw  how  absurd 
it  was  to  attribute  the  success  of  a  part  to  a  pair  of  shoes, 
instead  of  to  my  own  ability. 

II 

The  drama  was  excellent;  Laube  had  found  exceptional 
talent,  and  ability  of  all  sorts  offered  itself  to  the  master. 
It  is  almost  incredible  how  much  marked  talent  was  congre- 
gated here.  Friedrich  Mitterwurzer  was  one  with  whom 
Laube  tried  many  experiments,  and  who  wavered  in  his 
profession  between  one  thing  and  another,  playing  parts  of 
all  kinds,  while  his  wife,  whom  Laube  had  put  in  the  right 
place,  and  who  was  mistress  of  the  sprightly  style,  already 
gave  excellent  promise.  There  were  Mitell,  the  capital 
bon-vivant;  Richard  Kahle,  an  elocutionist  par  excellence,  and 
a  favourite  with  the  students  as  an  intriguer;  Herr  von  Le- 
man,  a  particularly  fine  impersonator  of  official  parts; 
Engelhardt,  just  as  distinguished  in  comedy;  Herzfeld  for 
the  hero;  Frau  Herzfeld-Link,  the  youthful  heroine;  Georg 
Link,  buffoon;  Emil  Claar,  and  Josef  Nesper  for  smaller 
parts,  but  who  soon  left  as  he  was  given  nothing  to  do. 
Clara  Ziegler,  who  played  heroine,  was  supplanted  by  Frau 
Strassmann-Dambock,  and  there  were  also  Hermine  Delia 
for  drawing-room  parts,  and  Frau  von  Moser-Sperner  for 


130  My  Path  Through  Life 

the  sentimental.  It  was  a  fine  ensemble,  indeed,  that  was 
scattered  amongst  all  the  best  court  theatres  after  Laube's 
retirement. 

I  vividly  remember  a  performance  of  Clavigo,  that  was  full 
of  Laube's  spirit.  It  was  acted  wonderfully.  The  last 
scene  of  the  third  act  produced  such  a  tremendous  effect  that 
many  ignorant  people  laughed  at  first,  and  then  the  whole 
house  burst  into  a  storm  of  applause.  I  was  present  at  a 
similar  effect,  later,  in  Paris,  when  Coquelin  played  the  miser 
in  Moli£re's  L'Avare  at  the  Theatre  Francais.  While  I 
was  deeply  affected  by  the  tragic  impression  of  human  pas- 
sion, almost  to  the  point  of  horror,  there  were  many  in 
the  audience  who  laughed,  until  here,  also,  a  thunder  of 
applause  cleared  the  air.  "Du  sublime  au  ridicule,  il  n'y 
a  qu'un  pas." 

Laube,  who  had  many  talented  young  actors  in  his  com- 
pany, naturally  was  not  able  to  drill  each  one  in  his  parts, 
for  many  did  not  understand  and  others  again  were  careless, 
and  he  was  struck  with  the  unlucky  idea  of  engaging  Alex- 
ander Strakosch  as  instructor  in  elocution,  who  spoke 
Hungarian-German,  and  with  whom  every  one,  though  un- 
willingly, was  compelled  to  study.  I  cannot  recall  just  how 
Emil  Claar  came  into  the  Laube-Strakosch  situation,  but  the 
consequences  were  most  momentous  for  all  three,  as  I  could 
explain  farther  on. 

I  had  been  in  Leipsic  scarcely  a  fortnight,  when  I  re- 
ceived word  from  Berlin  that  Heir  von  Hulsen  himself  was 
coming  to  Leipsic  for  an  interview  with  me.  I  could  imagine 
what  it  was  about,  and,  to  prevent  premature  talk,  I  begged 
him  to  let  me  go  to  see  him  at  his  hotel.  I  give  what  fol- 
lowed from  my  letters  to  my  mother. 

LEIPSIC,  June  13,  1869. 
MY  DEAR,  DEAR  MAMMA, 

When  I  went  to  Heir  von  Hulsen  yesterday  I  was  received  with 
the  remark,  "  Ah,  so  we  are  old  acquaintances.  I  think  you  have 
already  sung  for  me,  and  I  was  much  pleased.  Why  did  we  not 


Leipsic,  1869-1870  131 

come  to  an  understanding  then?"  "Because  I  did  not  wish  it. " 
"You  are  right,  you  were  unwilling."  "Is  it  not  better,  Herr 
General- Intendant,  that  you  should  now  seek  me  yourself,  when 
I  have  learned  something,  than  if  I  had  remained  at  that  time, 
a  mere  beginner,  in  Berlin?"  He  was  quite  of  my  opinion,  pre- 
ferred to  take  me  with  him  at  once,  is  willing  to  pay  the  con- 
tractual penalty  if  necessary,  is  going  to  talk  openly  and  honestly 
with  Laube,  and  will  try  his  utmost  to  get  me  released. 

Laube,  however,  would  not  consent,  and  only  when 
Manager  Seidl  advised  me  to  insist,  at  least,  on  a  visiting 
engagement  at  Berlin,  and  to  ask  him  to  permit  me  to  earn 
the  money,  did  he  yield,  on  condition  that  there  should  be 
no  further  talk  of  my  leaving.  I  gave  my  promise  and  kept 
it,  but  subsequent  unforeseen  events  helped  me  to  be  released 
from  my  contract. 

LEIPSIC,  Sept.  24,  1869. 

MY    DEAR,    DEAR   LITTLE    MAMMA, 

My  daily  work  has  come  to  a  stop  the  last  two  days,  as  I  have 
been  prostrated  by  a  rather  bad  inflammation  of  the  throat, 
but  I  am  on  the  way  to  recovery.  My  scribbling  shows  you  that 
I  am  writing  in  bed.  Otherwise  I  am  quite  well,  have  a  good 
appetite,  and  hope  soon  to  be  over  the  whole  thing.  I  sent  my 
certificate  to  Laube  yesterday  noon,  who  immediately  went  to 
show  it  to  Director  Behr.  The  whole  Behr  family  lives  in  two 
little  rooms  in  the  Rosental,  because  they  cannot  move  into  the 
large  apartment  until  October.  They  eat  at  the  inn,  and  were 
sitting  very  comfortably  and  unconcernedly  at  the  table  (as 
we  do  sometimes),  when, 

"  With  measured  tread  the  great  man  enters, 
Heinrich  Laube,  of  all  the  centre." 

Holding  my  certificate  in  his  hand  he  shook  it  at  Behr  with 
his  eyes  distended,  saying,  "Here  is  a  mess;  now  we  are  all  dead 
men!" 

It  was  so  funny  when  Behr  told  it  to-day  that  I  had  to  laugh 
heartily  in  spite  of  my  hoarseness,  and  Behr  was  startled  by  the 
sounds  that  I  made.  I  ranged  from  the  highest  treble  to  the 


132  My  Path  Through  Life 

lowest  bass.  The  whole  company  has  already  been  to  see  me 
to-day,  and  I  am  only  surprised  that  "Heinrich"  (Laube)  has 
not  appeared  yet. 

I  doubt  if  you  can  read  my  scrawl  unless  you  put  on  spectacles 
that  magnify  ninety-nine  times,  and  then  you  will  perform  a 
great  feat.  I  have  sung  fifteen  times  already  this  month.  I  am 
having  much  fun  with  the  Gerolstein.  Frau  Krebs-Michalesi 
and  your  old  colleague,  Gunther-Bachmann,  have  praised  me 
highly,  and  the  latter  is  very  critical.  When  I  say  with  horror 

in  the  last  act,  "You  have  a  wife  and  four  little  chil ?  Out 

with  the  plumes!"  I  am  applauded  every  time,  and  I  laughed 
so  much  myself  at  the  last  performance  that  I  could  not  go  on 
speaking. 

In  the  first  act  our  comedian,  Engelhardt,  introduces  a  joke 
that  I  think  originated  in  Berlin.  When  I,  as  Grand  Duchess, 
ask  him  kindly,  "What  is  your  name?"  he  is  bashful  and  does  not 
answer,  and  only  to  my  repeated  "What  is  your  name?"  does  he 
reply  with,  "Also  Lehmann!"  and  you  can  imagine  the  laughter 
that  follows. 

I  am  very  content  in  my  little  sleeping  nook;  the  beloved 
sun  shines  all  day  on  my  bed,  my  dear  Berls  come  to  see 
me,  and  nothing  is  wanting  in  my  imprisonment  but  our  grey 
cat. 

Laube  has  had  trouble  for  some  time  past  with  critics,  the 
Mayor  and  the  theatre  officials.  Laube  is  a  weak  man  who 
lets  our  "Elocution-Master,  Strakosch,"  lead  him  around  by  the 
nose.  Claar  and  he  beat  the  drum  of  fame  incessantly  for  Laube 
which  the  latter  does  not  need. 

Parties  for  and  against  Laube  are  beginning  to  form,  and 
voices  are  raised  everywhere,  each  attacking  the  frailties  of  the 
others,  for  which  Laube  will  probably  have  to  pay  heavily 
some  day. 

I  go  often  to  the  Laubes' ;  Frau  Iduna  has  taken  me  to  her 
heart,  and  always  kisses  me  to  pieces  when  I  arrive.  She  is  a 
lovely,  clever  woman  and  I  enjoy  her  society.  It  will  interest  you 
to  learn,  also,  that  the  elderly,  but  still  handsome  and  elegant 
Emil  Devrient  pays  much  court  to  me.  He  said  to  me  recently, 
after  the  Hugenotten,  that  he  had  never  seen  so  noble  and 
royal  a  Queen,  and  called  me  "Artist!"  I  still  am  a  long  way 


Leipsic,  1869-1870  133 

from  that,  but  I  strive  to  become  one.     In  spite  of  his  seventy 
years  he  is  a  very  gallant  and  amorous  old  gentleman. 

A  thousand  greetings  for  you,  dear  little  mamma,  and  all  our 
friends  from 

Your 

LlLLI. 

It  was  a  bad  attack  of  angina  from  which  I  suffered, 
therefore  worse  than  I  wrote  to  my  dear  mother.  I  was 
singing  in  Rienzi  the  part  of  the  Messenger  of  Peace, 
a  favourite  r61e  of  mine,  and  had  to  appear  as  such  out  of  the 
traps.  When  I  began  the  chorus  to  prepare  myself,  I  felt 
sharp  pain  and  a  sudden  hoarseness.  With  quick  decision 
I  whispered  to  the  nearest  boy,  who  was  a  very  musical 
little  girl  who  had  already  sung  for  me  at  rehearsals,  that 
she  must  substitute  for  me,  and  I  quietly  shoved  her  for- 
ward during  the  prelude.  It  would  have  been  worth  while 
to  preserve  Conductor  Schmidt's  expression!  But,  as  he 
grasped  the  situation,  and  little  "Muhle"  acquitted  herself 
very  well  of  her  critical  task,  his  face  brightened  with  a  grate- 
ful smile.  Ferdinand  Gross,  our  splendid  Rienzi,  sang  this 
gigantic  part  eleven  times  in  one  month  during  the  fair. 

Ill 

The  members  of  the  Arion  Society  honoured  me  with  a 
torchlight  parade,  after  a  charity  concert  for  poor  students, 
and  I  was  frightened  to  death  by  the  remarkable  ovation. 
Following  a  second  concert  of  the  same  kind,  we,  that  is 
Hermine  Delia,  Marie  Wieck  (a  sister  of  Clara  Schumann), 
three  or  four  old  professors  and  school  councillors,  a  few 
young  students  belonging  to  the  committee,  and  I  held  a 
regular  Kommers.  It  was  wonderful.  The  old  gentlemen 
were  ecstatic,  the  students  were  equally  so,  and  we  young 
professional  women  were  bright  and  happy.  The  youngest 
of  the  students  brought  me  a  Mozartean  salutation  with  a 
glass  of  champagne.  Scarcely  a  year  later,  I  received,  by 


134  My  Path  Through  Life 

military  post  and  anonymously,  a  pressed  rose  with  the 
following  lines,  "The  last  rose  of  summer,  picked  before  the 
battle  of  Sedan,  for  the  never-to-be-forgotten  Rose  of 
Leipsic."  The  young  man  did  not  return  from  the  battle,  as 
Professor  Mobius  wrote  me,  and  these  may  have  been  his 
last  words.  I  have  carefully  kept  the  rose  and  the  letter  as 
precious  souvenirs. 

My  sister's  extremely  social  nature  had  won  her  many 
friends,  who  naturally  became  mine  also.  We  spent  de- 
delightful  hours  at  the  Edelmanns',  the  owners  of  the 
"  Modenzeitung, "  and  were  accounted  members  of  the 
family.  Other  friends  were  Herr  Hagemann,  attorney-at- 
law,  and  his  wife  and  her  sister.  Their  house  was  the  home 
of  good  humour ;  one  saw  there  only  happy  faces,  and  unceas- 
ing and  unaffected  cheerfulness  was  the  spice  of  their 
gatherings.  One  needed  only  to  look  at  the  three  to  feel 
the  contagion  of  their  happiness,  and  as  soon  as  one  entered 
their  doors,  no  matter  in  how  sullen  a  mood,  one  stood  still 
and  laughed  himself  into  a  healthy  state  again  immediately. 
Hagemann  was  invited,  in  his  old  age,  to  hunts,  scat  parties, 
and  social  assemblies  by  Emperor  Wilhelm  II.  He  was  as 
good  a  sportsman  as  scat  player  and  society  man,  and  did 
not  seal  his  lips  even  in  the  Emperor's  presence.  He  was 
once  invited  to  a  large  company  at  the  castle,  and  a  glass  of 
red  wine  at  supper  stood  untouched  in  front  of  him.  Sud- 
denly the  Emperor  approached  behind  him  and  said:  "So, 
Hagemann,  you  are  not  drinking?"  "No,  Your  Majesty," 
he  replied,  "the  Doctor  has  forbidden  me  to  touch  inferior 
red  wines!"  The  Emperor  laughed,  and  immediately 
ordered  some  of  "the  best,"  that,  in  future,  was  always 
served  to  his  guest,  and  which  the  Emperor  often  sent  to 
him  at  Leipsic. 

I  met  Hagemann  one  day  at  noon,  as  I  was  coming  from 
rehearsal,  and,  not  liking  the  hat  I  had  on,  he  compelled  me 
to  go  with  him  to  a  very  expensive  shop,  and  to  choose  a 
very  pretty  chapeau  for  myself,  and  then  to  go  home  with  him 


Leipsic,  1869-1870  135 

to  dinner.  When  I  told  the  history  of  the  hat  to  Frau 
Hagemann,  she  laughingly  said:  "Well,  you  are  a  stupid;  I 
would  have  selected  two  for  myself,  for  such  an  opportunity 
does  not  return  again. " 

Fallen  asleep  in  his  armchair  for  his  siesta,  Alfons  Hage- 
mann slumbered,  unsuspicious,  passing  without  pain  or 
sound  on  into  the  next  world,  healthy,  serene,  and  happy  as 
he  had  lived.  His  dear  wife,  who  survived  him  more  than 
ten  years,  embroidered  a  travelling  pillow  for  me  when  she 
was  eighty-one,  with  which  she  had  to  make  haste,  as  she 
told  me,  in  order  to  be  able  to  deliver  it  finished. 

Whether  it  was  a  fact,  or  due  to  our  youth,  we  did  not 
see  much  that  was  sad  in  Leipsic,  and  people  were  usually 
gay  and  full  of  the  enjoyment  of  life.  We  often  shared  happy 
hours  with  friends  at  Professor  Reclam's,  also,  and  something 
very  amusing  once  happened  to  us  there.  On  a  certain 
occasion  no  one  was  present,  besides  my  sister  and  myself, 
except  Conductor  Muhldorfer,  who  left  an  hour  earlier  than 
we,  as  he  had  a  little  opera  still  to  conduct  that  evening  after 
a  play.  Muhldorfer  was  going  to  the  new  theatre,  and  our 
lodging  was  close  to  the  old  theatre,  in  quite  the  opposite 
direction.  There  was  a  dense  fog  outside,  of  which  we  did 
not  know  until  we  were  leaving.  When,  at  last,  we  fancied 
we  had  reached  home,  we  found  we  were  standing  in  front 
of  the  new  theatre,  where  the  doors  had  been  closed  a  long 
time,  and,  with  great  difficulty,  we  arrived  at  our  own  neigh- 
bourhood in  the  middle  of  the  night.  I  spoke  to  Muhldorfer 
the  next  day  at  rehearsal,  and  he  said:  "Do  you  know  what 
happened  to  me  yesterday,  Fraulein  Lehmann?  I  was  quite 
turned  around,  found  myself  at  the  old  theatre  by  mistake, 
and,  when  I  got  to  the  new,  the  performance  had  long  been 
over.  Some  one  had  taken  my  place  as  conductor. " 

IV 

BERLIN,  October  12,  1869. 

You  have  celebrated  a  real  triumph  in  me  to-day,  my  dear, 
dear  mamma.  I  have  sung  the  part  of  the  Queen  in  the  Huge- 


136  My  Path  Through  Life 

notten,  have  had  a  great  success,  and  so  have  reached  a  goal  that 
I  believed  still  lay  far  ahead.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  have 
thought  of  you;  my  one  idea  when  I  pleased  so  much  was,  how 
mamma  will  rejoice!  I  owe  it  all  to  you.  Every  one  noticed 
how  well  I  sang,  and  all  asked  me  where  I  had  studied.  Every- 
body gave  me  compliments  for  you  as  my  only  teacher.  I  wish 
that  you  might  have  been  there;  but  no,  you  would  have  died 
from  fear,  and  so  it  is  better  that  you  were  not  present. 

I  had  sung  under  a  contract  that  bound  me  to  Berlin 
for  three  years,  and  should  have  sung  on  the  I4th  of  October, 
for  my  second  role,  the  part  of  Rosine  in  the  Barbier.  I 
had  gone  through  the  rehearsal,  but  was  called  back  to 
Leipsic  by  telegraph  in  the  afternoon.  My  engagement  was 
perfected,  and  now  I  only  awaited  a  favourable  opportunity 
to  enter  upon  it  as  soon  as  possible. 

On  my  journey  to  Dantzic,  I  had  heard,  with  little 
enjoyment,  a  performance  of  the  Stumme,  but  now,  during 
my  visit,  I  saw  the  ballet,  Fantasca,  that  called  forth  my 
astonished  admiration.  But  of  all  the  ballets  that  I  have 
seen  in  Berlin,  Flick  und  Flock  has  always  remained  my 
favourite,  and  I  believe  the  Emperor,  likewise,  loved  it  best. 
It  was  different  whenAdeleGrantzow  danced,  for  then  every- 
thing was  equally  good.  This  great  actress  and  dancer  one 
could  not  admire  sufficiently ;  she  was  classic  in  her  gestures 
and  expression,  in  spite  of  the  short  little  skirt  that  was  then 
the  fashion,  and  so  beautiful  that  one  never  tired  of  looking 
at  her.  The  Russian  dancer,  Pawlowna,  is  the  only  one  who 
has  ever  affected  me  similarly.  The  boxes  reserved  for  the 
profession  were  full  as  early  as  four  o'clock.  We  took  our 
needlework  with  us,  and  waited  patiently  from  four  to 
seven,  so  as  to  be  the  first  arrivals,  and  secure  a  front  seat. 
Adele  Grantzow  was  worth  it  to  us,  for  we  could  learn  from 
her  softness  and  grace  what  no  one  else  could  teach  us.  It 
is  horrible  to  think  that  this  great  artist  had  to  die  so  early, 
through  the  carelessness  of  a  charlatan  who  cut  too  deep  with 
a  dirty  knife,  when  treating  her  for  eczema.  No  one  could 


Leipsic,  1869-1870  137 

take  her  place.  All  the  others  were  merely  dancers,  and 
none  approached  her  as  an  actress,  not  even  Pawlowna, 
although  she  possesses  qualities  that,  to  me,  signify  rhyth- 
mical perfection. 

The  only  opera  worth  mentioning  was  Franz  von  Hoi- 
stein's  melodious  Heideschacht,  in  which  the  alto  r61e  was 
sung  by  Frau  Krebs-Michalesi,  and  I  rendered  that  of  a 
lively  boy.  The  opera  was  liked,  and  was  given  often,  as 
its  fine  and  modest  composer  had  many  friends. 

At  the  beginning  of  1870,  Riezl  came  to  me  in  Leipsic, 
after  she  had  again  studied  hard  with  mamma,  and  had  got 
her  voice  in  condition.  But  her  nerves  had  suffered,  which 
showed  in  frightful  depression,  when  matters  went  less  well 
one  day  than  another.  She  wished  to  appear  again  in 
public,  and  we  encouraged  her  to  the  utmost  to  do  so.  The 
chief  thing  now  was  that  we  again  could  share  joy  and  sorrow 
together. 

It  was  odd  that  almost  all  of  the  Elector's  sons  now  lived 
in  Leipsic.  They  were  friendly  with  all  the  principal  artists, 
and  we  met  them  often  on  festive  occasions,  or  were  invited 
to  go  to  them,  together  with  our  colleagues.  I  wrote  con- 
cerning this  to  my  mother. 

LEIPSIC,  March  29,  1870. 
MY  DEAR,  DEAR  LITTLE  MAMMA, 

You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  we  joined  in  a  delightful  supper 
party  yesterday  at  Prince  Heinrich  von  Hanau's.  His  brother, 
Karl,  who  appears  to  be  a  very  quiet,  serious  man,  made  the 
best  impression  on  me,  although  he  is  not  at  all  good-looking. 
Riezl  and  I  met  Strassmann  and  his  wife  there,  and  almost  all 
our  associates.  Prince  Heinrich  was  the  most  affable  of  hosts, 
and  more  cheerful  than  I  could  have  believed  it  possible  for  him 
to  be.  He  seems  to  be  a  great  spendthrift.  At  supper,  Prince 
Friedrich,  who  has  long  been  married  again  to  the  actress, 
Fraulein  von  Alten,  proposed  your  health,  dear  mamma,  which 
I  was  to  give  you  with  many  respectful  greetings.  We  amused 
ourselves  (I  beg  you  not  to  fall  over)  until  a  quarter  to  five  in 
the  morning. 


138  My  Path  Through  Life 

V 

If  we  had  been  educated  in  classical  music  like  Handel, 
Gluck,  Mozart,  Haydn,  Beethoven,  Weber,  Schumann,  and 
Schubert,  thanks  to  mamma's  pure  taste  and  fine  musical 
culture,  yet  we  were  able  to  broaden  our  musical  horizon 
considerably  in  Leipsic  where  there  was  so  much  good 
music  given. 

At  the  old  Gewandhaus,  in  particular,  classical  music  was 
treated  as  a  sacred  relic,  comparable  to  the  Host,  which  was 
received  only  by  the  consecrated,  and  could  be  enjoyed  by 
those  alone  who  spent  themselves  in  this  highest  of  all  arts, 
which  came  from  the  heart  and  spoke  directly  to  the  heart. 
What  I  received  then  from  this  sanctuary  spoke  and  sang 
on  in  my  life  and  in  my  art.  The  lessons  I  learned  there 
were  therefore  of  great  importance  for  my  future,  and  each  of 
them  was  a  gain  for  my  spiritual  life  on  the  path  leading  to 
a  better  development,  and  to  the  purification  of  my  judg- 
ment of  the  natural  sentiments.  In  the  place  where  Goethe, 
Schiller,  and  Sebastian  Bach  had  wandered,  one  felt  oneself 
uplifted  in  awe,  and  filled  with  deep  emotion. 

VI 

I  had  vainly  implored  mamma,  all  through  the  winter,  to 
make  every  effort  to  free  herself  from  her  contract  as  soon 
as  possible.  I  advised  her  to  play  very  badly,  so  that  they 
would  let  her  go.  She  wrote  me  back  that  she  did  that 
anyhow,  for  it  had  become  very  hard  for  her,  and  she  was  in 
a  state  of  fear  over  each  important  solo.  She  had  resigned 
long  ago,  but  nothing  was  of  any  avail,  and  the  cup  had  to 
be  emptied  to  the  dregs. 

On  the  first  of  May,  1870,  she  was  finally  released  from 
the  chains  she  had  patiently  worn  for  sixteen  years,  and,  on 
the  1 2th,  I  took  our  dear  little  mamma,  in  whom  our  entire 
happiness  was  bound  up,  together  with  the  grey  cat,  our  old 
bullfinch,  and  the  golden  harp  from  Prague  to  Leipsic.  She 


Leipsic,  1869-1870  139 

was  offered  so  dreadfully  little,  when  she  tried  to  sell  her 
old  furniture,  that  she  said  to  the  Jewess  who  dealt  in  second- 
hand things,  "I  would  rather  give  them  away."  "Well 
then,"  replied  the  other,  "give  them  to  me."  They  were 
all,  in  fact,  presented  to  a  poor  acquaintance,  and  even  the 
old  sleeping  couch  with  the  "family  hole,"  as  I  called  the 
place  where  all  our  friends  sat  by  preference,  found  some  one 
to  accept  it  gratefully.  I  carried  mamma  off  in  triumph. 
It  was  very  hard  for  her  to  say  good-bye  to  Prague,  and  she 
was  still  in  perpetual  fear  that  she  had  given  up  her  position 
too  thoughtlessly. 

I  had  exchanged  my  two  rooms  under  the  lead  roof  for 
three  on  the  east  side  that  were  larger,  very  pleasant,  and 
neither  so  hot  nor  so  cold,  where  we  were  all  three  happily 
reunited,  and  looked  forward  to  a  new  life. 

That  many  tears  were  shed  after  mamma  had  gone  away, 
I  do  not  need  to  state,  for  every  one  who  knew  her  found  in 
her  a  helper  and  a  guardian  angel,  that  was  lost  when  she  took 
her  departure.  She  also  quitted,  with  mixed  emotions,  the 
place  where  we  had  so  long  found  a  homelike  shelter,  where 
time  had  been  spent  full  of  anxiety  for  her  and  of  happiness 
for  us,  and  we  left  behind  a  heartful  of  attachment  for 
everybody  and  everything  that  had  been  dear  to  us,  towards 
all  of  which  we  could  not  be  indifferent. 

After  Laube  had  positively  declared  that  he  would  not 
resume  the  management  of  the  Leipsic  Theatre  under  any 
circumstances,  I,  with  all  the  other  members  of  the  com- 
pany, was  released  from  my  contract.  Berlin  came  forward 
at  once,  and  I  agreed  to  begin  my  contract  there  on  August 
1st,  as  soon  as  I  had  again  spoken  to  Hulsen.  I  had  dis- 
covered the  following  clause  in  my  Berlin  contract,  "The 
contract  takes  effect  after  the  termination  of  the  contract 
with  the  Leipsic  Theatre  management."  Laube  was  not 
named,  and  therefore  I  might  have  remained  there  twenty 
years  more.  Hulsen  was  sensible  of  this,  and,  as  a  year 
had  already  elapsed  since  the  Berlin  agreement,  I  received 


140  My  Path  Through  Life 

at  once  the  salary  for  the  second  year  of  the  contract,  and 
an  increase  was  set  for  the  third  year. 

The  scramble  for  the  managership  had  begun.  Among 
the  many  who  applied  was  Emil  Fischer,  the  director  at 
Dantzic,  who  arrived  in  Leipsic,  one  day,  after  he  had  ob- 
tained information  from  me,  and  took  rooms  at  the  Hotel 
de  Prusse. 

We  had  been  very  anxious  about  Riezl,  who  had  gone 
with  mamma  to  Bad  Elster  after  having  a  bad  case  of 
pleurisy.  I  received  parts  sent  from  Berlin  to  be  studied 
ahead,  in  addition  to  the  immense  amount  of  work  I  was 
doing,  and  I  could  trouble  myself  very  little  about  Emil 
Fischer,  who,  as  I  noticed,  was  well  liked  in  Leipsic. 

The  war  broke  out  now,  and  all  other  interests  gave  way 
to  this  event,  partly  longed  for  and  partly  dreaded. 

We,  however,  continued  our  acting.  Friedrich  Haase  and 
Ferdinand  von  Strantz  had  been  appointed  to  the  manage- 
ment, which  they  entered  upon  on  the  first  of  June.  Both 
gentlemen  entreated  me  incessantly  not  to  go  to  Berlin, 
but  to  stay  in  Leipsic  where  I  should  have  much  better 
treatment.  I  did  not  consider  it.  Martha  had  been 
chosen  for  my  farewell  appearance.  I  found  my  dressing- 
room  wreathed  with  flowers,  and  also  the  toilette  table  of 
"Lady  Harriet."  Twelve  ladies  of  the  chorus,  ranged  in  a 
half -circle,  held  in  their  hands  twelve  big  white  bouquets,  with 
twelve  red  letters  in  relief,  which,  taken  together,  formed 
my  name.  Each  artist,  as  he  appeared,  brought  me  a 
present  of  flowers  or  wreaths.  At  the  end  of  the  performance 
I  still  had  to  say  a  few  words  to  the  audience  before  I  could 
get  away. 

All  my  associates  assembled  on  the  stage  after  the  per- 
formance. The  officers  of  the  direction  and  the  management 
made  speeches,  and  everything  seemed  to  combine  to  make 
my  good-bye  very  hard  for  me.  But  I  had  to  tear  myself 
away  in  spite  of  all  the  tears,  the  love,  the  appreciation,  and 
the  comradeship.  My  goal  was  higher,  the  way  thither 


Leipsic,  1869-1870  141 

still  very  long,  and  I  could  not  and  dared  not  lose  any 
time. 

I  had  already  to  lament  the  loss  of  much  time  because  of 
the  constant  entertaining.  I  had  been  drawn  into  the  whirl- 
pool against  my  will,  through  the  amiability  of  our  friends, 
and  my  suddenly  awakened  careless  gaiety,  without  stop- 
ping to  consider  at  all  how  unfit  I  was  for  it.  The  late  hours 
necessitated  by  my  exacting  professional  work,  the  strain  of 
the  rehearsals,  which,  besides,  robbed  me  of  every  morning, 
promoted  neither  my  health  nor  my  studies.  I  should  have 
employed  my  strength  better  or  saved  it  more.  But  I  had 
been  unsociable  long  enough,  and  soon  I  again  became 
unsuited  to  every  kind  of  society  out  of  love  for  my  art, 
that  finally  took  the  place  of  all  that  I  had  lost  here  or  there 
or  been  compelled  to  give  up.  I  must  say  for  myself  that 
this  experience,  also,  was  of  service  to  the  soul  of  the  girl, 
as  well  as  to  the  artist,  who  should  not  entirely  lack  the 
pleasure  of  life. 

Herr  von  Strantz,  who  wanted  to  get  rid  of  his  Berlin 
apartment  and  furniture,  offered  it  to  me  with  his  servant 
thrown  in,  a  proposition  that  came  most  opportunely,  and 
which,  for  the  time  being,  relieved  me  of  all  house  hunting. 
The  recent  trying  circumstances  had  put  a  strain  on  us  all, 
and  I  really  needed  some  recreation.  While  I  went  with 
Riezl  for  a  fortnight  to  Reinhardsbrunn  in  Thuringia, 
which  was  then  still  very  quiet,  mamma  remained  in  Leipsic 
to  prepare  everything  for  the  removal  to  Berlin.  I  took 
an  excursion  alone  by  carriage  from  Reinhardsbrunn  to  the 
Wartburg,  and,  in  solitary  meditation,  enjoyed  for  the  first 
time  the  mighty  impression  of  the  castle,  the  valley,  the 
locality,  and  the  whole  enchanting  region,  which  Scheffel 
and  Wagner  had  long  since  taught  me  to  love. 

I  had  been  back  in  Leipsic  from  this  trip  only  a  few  hours 
when  I  received  a  telegram  that  read  as  follows:  "Where  is 
my  husband?  Wife  and  children  are  starving;  find  my 
husband  for  me.  Despairingly,  Rosa."  The  telegram  had 


142  My  Path  Through  Life 

been  three  days  on  the  way  from  Dantzic  to  Leipsic.  We 
were  speechless,  and  racked  our  brains  thinking  whatever 
could  have  happened.  We  had  said  good-bye  to  Fischer 
some  weeks  previously,  and  had  supposed  he  was  at  home. 
He  could  only  be  ill  or  the  victim  of  some  accident,  therefore 
I  drove  to  the  hotel  in  fear  and  haste,  and  was  shown 
by  the  porter  into  the  garden. 

There  he  sat — the  director  whom  I  had  imagined  dan- 
gerously ill — at  dinner  with  several  gentlemen,  a  large  bowl 
of  punch  before  him,  and  bright  tears  of  delightful  con- 
viviality coursing  over  his  laughing  countenance.  I  was 
struck  dumb  again  but  not  for  long.  Then  I  was  seized 
with  fierce  anger,  which  his  joviality  and  the  proffered  straw- 
berry punch  could  not  allay.  I  took  him  aside,  showed  him 
the  despatch,  and  was  given  the  most  natural  answer  in  the 
world;  he  could  not  pay  his  bill,  and,  therefore,  could  not 
leave !  !  By  afternoon  I  had  settled  his  debt,  with  the  help 
of  a  man  acquainted  with  us  both,  had  put  my  dear  direc- 
tor on  the  train,  pressed  his  ticket  and  baggage  check  in 
his  hand,  written  to  our  dear  Rosa  all  that  I  knew,  and 
then  I  heard  nothing  more  for  many,  many  years  from  the 
poor  "starving  wife,"  and  the  all-too-thoughtless  husband. 

Only  a  few  days  later,  mamma  and  I,  with  our  little 
menagerie,  likewise  sat  in  a  train  for  Berlin,  travelling 
towards  events  that  were  shaking  Europe. 


Lilli  Lehmann 
From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin 


Berlin 

1870-1875 


ON  the  fourth  of  August,  1870,  Berlin  was  in  a  state  of 
frightful  excitement,  but  not  exactly  because  we  had 
just  arrived.  News  was  expected  from  the  seat  of  war.  The 
armies  had  marched  against  each  other  at  Weissenburg, 
and  a  battle  was  in  progress.  The  fever  of  expectation  had 
attacked  us  even  on  the  train. 

We  drove  straight  from  the  station  to  77  Markgrafen- 
strasse,  where  our  apartment,  still  unknown  to  me,  was 
located,  and  we  were  pleasantly  welcomed  by  the  housemaid. 
We  found  there  were  two  front  and  two  rear  rooms,  together 
with  a  kitchen,  without  other  appurtenances  (Berlin  at 
that  time  was  not  properly  equipped  with  a  water  and  sewage 
system),  and  the  furniture,  although  modest,  was  not 
unpleasing.  I  shrank  only  from  an  enormous  bed  that  stood 
in  the  so-called  "Berlin  room,"  in  which  mamma  and  I  had 
to  sleep  together  for  the  present,  as  it  was  a  week  before  it 
could  be  removed  to  make  space  for  my  own  bed. 

It  was  about  seven  in  the  evening,  and  after  we  had 
changed  our  dress,  when  we  hurried  towards  Unter  den  Lin- 
den, whither,  as  we  saw,  every  one  was  thronging.  Extras 
were  being  called,  and  people  were  running  about  and 
shouting.  Groups  had  formed,  in  the  midst  of  which  des- 
patches, announcing  the  victory  of  our  German  troops,  were 
being  read  aloud.  Here  some  one  cried  hurrah,  there  some 
one  wept  for  joy,  and  we  two,  who  had  just  "blown  in," 

143 


144  My  Path  Through  Life 

joined  in  weeping  with  persons  who  were  complete  strangers 
to  us.  The  crowd,  shouting  hurrahs,  surged  in  front  of  the 
King's  palace.  The  enthusiasm  and  the  throngs  of  people 
grew  steadily  greater.  We  were  unaccustomed  to  such 
scenes,  and,  full  of  alarm,  we  were  seeking  a  way  of  escape 
by  some  side  street,  when  we  ran  into  the  arms  of  a  Leipsic 
acquaintance,  who  immediately  assumed  the  position  of  our 
guide  and  protector.  I  do  not  recall  now  who  it  was,  but 
I  remember  that  we  had  supper  together,  and  that  about 
ten  o'clock  we  stood  before  locked  doors.  There  was  no 
bell  on  the  house-gate,  and  all  our  calling,  inquiries,  and 
searching  were  in  vain,  for  we  were  simply  shut  out.  For  good 
or  ill  we  were  obliged  to  decide  upon  spending  the  night  in  a 
hotel,  and  we  drove  to  Schmelzer's,  where  we  found  a  good 
room,  and  the  longed-for  rest  after  such  an  eventful  day. 

II 

The  General-Intendant  von  Hulsen  had  positively  en- 
gaged me  for  the  part  of  Vielka  in  Meyerbeer's  opera,  Ein 
Feldlager  in  Schlesien,  whether  I  could  be  released  from  my 
contract  at  Leipsic  or  not,  and  the  performance  was  to  take 
place  on  August  4th,  on  the  occasion  of  the  unveiling  of  the 
equestrian  statue  of  Friedrich  Wilhelm  III  in  the  Lustgarten. 
The  opera  was  composed  especially  for  Berlin,  while  it  had 
been  given  much  on  other  stages  under  the  title,  Der  Nor  ci- 
stern, and  with  changes  in  the  characters  and  some  of  the 
musical  passages.  I  did  not  know  it  at  all.  Only  a  written 
copy  of  the  part  of  Vielka,  supplied  with  a  bass,  had  been 
sent  to  me  at  Leipsic  from  which  I  was  to  study  the  opera, 
without  knowing  any  of  the  rest  of  it — an  extraordinary  thing 
to  expect.  The  great  aria  in  the  last  act  was  really  difficult ; 
it  formed  a  single  grand  cadenza,  with  the  alternating 
accompaniment  of  two  flutes,  and  it  was  often  sung  at 
concerts  as  a  bravura  piece  by  colorature  singers.  The 
breaking  out  of  the  war  had  of  course  put  an  end  to  the 
plan  for  a  celebration  of  the  unveiling. 


Berlin,  1870-1875  145 

Before  the  season  began  at  the  Royal  Opera,  I  made 
everything  ready,  in  advance,  for  my  entrance  upon  my  new 
position.  I  had  never  gone  to  see  a  critic  at  Leipsic,  and 
I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  do  so,  because  I  regarded 
even  this  act  of  courtesy  as  a  kind  of  begging,  which  I  con- 
sidered beneath  both  the  dignity  of  art  and  of  a  critic  of  art. 
It  was  to  my  own  hurt,  I  will  add  at  once,  as  others  take  a 
different  view  of  it. 

I  had  brought  letters  of  introduction  from  Dantzic  to 
Professor  Gustav  Engel,  who  was  a  native  of  that  city,  and 
had  to  present  them  to  him.  Professor  Heinrich  Dorn  was 
a  very  old  friend  of  my  mother,  from  the  days  of  Konigsberg 
and  Riga,  and  I  had,  also,  to  go  to  him.  There  was,  like- 
wise, Professor  Wurst,  whom  I  first  met  on  the  occasion  of 
the  rehearsals  of  his  opera,  A-ing-fo-hi,  in  which  Betz  and 
I  sang  charming  parts.  I  was  talking  with  him  once  about 
a  singer  whom  he  constantly  praised  to  the  skies,  though  she 
had  a  frightful  "dumpling,"  which  every  one  made  fun  of, 
and  I  asked  why  he  never  censured  such  a  bad  habit ;  where- 
upon he  replied,  "I  do  not  hear  it  at  all."  Not  one  of  the 
three  gentlemen,  on  whom  I  called  before  my  engagement  as 
a  visiting  artist,  interested  himself  in  the  slightest  degree  for 
me. 

I  had  neither  talent  for  nor  falseness  enough  to  gain  the 
advantages  that  come  from  being  constantly  praised,  which 
is  peculiar  to  very  many  artists.  That  he,  who  understood 
my  aims  and  gifts,  should  judge  me  fairly  was  all  that  I, 
as  an  artist,  claimed  from  the  critics.  To  find  myself  praised 
together  with  a  lot  of  incapables  filled  me  with  disgust. 

No,  I  have  never  begged  nor  fawned  upon  critics  for 
favours.  I  have  gone  my  own  road  proudly,  the  way  of  the 
will,  of  knowledge,  and  of  capacity,  in  accord  with  my  aspir- 
ations and  my  abilities.  Thanks  to  my  education,  my 
talents,  and  industry,  I  have  been  able  to  pursue  it  with 
increasing  authority.  I  quickly  grasped  what  availed  in 
art,  and  gladly  learned  of  everything,  with  the  firm  resolu- 


146  My  Path  Through  Life 

tion  to  attain  to  the  greatest  possible  perfection  in  the  realm 
of  art. 

I  may  be  permitted  to  give  here,  perhaps,  the  later  verdict 
of  a  man  who  is  dear  to  us,  that  he  expressed  only  towards  the 
end  of  my  career.  It  may  serve  as  a  justification  of  my 
earliest  feelings,  and  contribute  to  the  strengthening  of  the 
judgment  of  all  those  who  love  me,  and  who  have  hailed 
with  pleasure,  even  with  satisfaction,  my  artistic  develop- 
ment. It  will  seem  conceited  only  to  those  who  do  not  know 
or  love  me,  and  to  such  persons  I  have  nothing  whatever  to 
say. 

Dr.  Ernst  von  Wilderibruch 


BERLIN,  W.,  March  10-17, 
14  Hohenzollernstrasse  (evening). 

GLORIOUS  WOMAN! 

I  have  just  returned  home  after  the  Carmen  Sylva  evening, 
and  I  feel  the  need  and  the  duty  of  telling  you,  great  artist  that 
you  are,  whom  I  have  not  heard  for  many  years  (I  go  out  rarely 
at  night),  how  greatly  and  wonderfully  I  was  affected  by  your 
singing,  your  interpretation,  your  whole  personality,  by  every- 
thing that  is  you.  '  '  At  last  one  has  come  again,  '  '  I  said  to  myself, 
as  you  walked  to  the  piano,  "who  commands  her  audience, 
instead  of  coming  to  it  as  a  suppliant!"  "There  is  one,"  I 
thought  to  myself,  as  you  began  to  sing,  "whose  every  soul 
fibre  has  grown,  together  with  her  task."  "I  have  enjoyed 
once  again,  "  said  I  to  myself,  when  you  had  finished,  "the  grand 
style  that  sounds  forth  from  the  personality  of  a  race.  " 

You  have  always  given  us  much,  as  long  as  you  have  sung  — 
but  now  that  you  stand,  amongst  the  pygmies  of  the  present 
time,  like  the  embodiment  in  marble  of  the  classic  tradition,  you 
bestow  still  more  upon  us,  you  give  us  your  highest. 

Permit  me,  noble  woman,  to  thank  you  for  what  you  have 
blessed  me  with  to-day. 

ERNST  VON  WILDENBRUCH. 

Ill 

Victory  followed  victory  in  quick  succession,  and  was 
reflected  in  the  songs  and  dramas  of  victory  at  the  Royal 


Berlin,  1870-1875  147 

Opera  House.  On  the  opening  night  of  the  season,  which  was 
August  1 7th,  all  the  members  of  the  company  at  the  Royal 
Opera,  amongst  whom  I  was  now  counted,  sang  together 
solemnly,  from  the  stage,  the  National  Hymn  and  the 
"Borussia"  chorus.  The  ladies  wore  white  dresses  with 
black  scarfs,  and  the  gentlemen  were  in  dress  coats  with 
white  ties.  We  sang  with  enthusiasm,  full  of  the  conscious- 
ness that  our  Fatherland  had  been  saved,  and  to  the  honour 
of  our  brave  soldiers.  This  scene  was  repeated  too  often, 
however,  for  a  lasting  interest  in  it  to  continue. 

On  the  morning  of  this,  my  first  appearance,  I  had  also 
the  first  and  last  rehearsal  of  the  Feldlager,  that  was  to  be 
given  the  very  next  night,  and  which,  to  my  great  regret,  was 
presented  very  often  during  the  war,  and  afterward,  when- 
ever a  patriotic  occasion  occurred.  The  unmeaning  part  of 
Vielka,  which  was  not  made  more  interesting  by  bad  support, 
soon  lost  my  sympathy,  and  eventually  became  insufferable 
to  me.  A  few  days  later,  Frau  von  Voggenhuber,  who  was 
to  have  rendered  a  song  especially  composed  for  this  occasion, 
declined  to  appear  in  a  patriotic  performance.  It  was  half- 
past  six  in  the  evening  when  Radecke,  the  conductor  and  the 
composer  of  the  song,  came  to  me,  to  beg  me,  in  the  name  of 
the  management,  to  be  so  obliging  as  to  sing  it.  Although 
I  held  to  my  refusal  for  a  long  time,  I  ended  by  driving  to 
the  theatre  with  him,  dressed  quickly,  and  sang  it  at  first 
sight  from  the  notes  without  a  mistake. 

A  short  time  afterward,  she  failed  to  take  the  part  of 
Agathe  in  the  Freischutz,  and  I  sprang  into  the  breach  with- 
out ever  having  sung  the  rdle.  From  then  on,  I  often  acted 
as  substitute  for  her,  Frau  Mallinger,  or  Frau  Lucca,  who 
were  quarrelling  together,  and,  in  this  way,  I  soon  became  in 
Berlin  a  useful  person  of  the  first  rank.  This  was  not  favour- 
able to  my  assuming  a  position  of  authority,  however,  and 
I  soon  felt  that  I  had  been  put  into  the  background.  People 
had  become  accustomed  to  rely  upon  me  at  any  time,  and, 
as  a  result,  they  behaved  very  inconsiderately  towards  me, 


148  My  Path  Through  Life 

while  they  had  regard  for  all  those  who  showed  no  consider- 
ation for  the  management.  But  I  must  do  Herr  von  Hulsen 
the  justice  of  saying  that  he  paid  me  extra  for  my  com- 
plaisance, and  granted  me  readily  all  the  leave  of  absence  I 
asked  for,  which  was  a  good  deal,  as  I  sang  in  many  outside 
concerts  and  was  much  on  the  road.  He  was  very  thought- 
ful of  those  who  filled  inferior  positions,  and  was  ready  to 
help  when  he  could.  One  could  look  upon  him  at  all  times 
as  a  fatherly  friend. 

I  had  no  lack  of  occupation,  for,  in  the  first  ten  months  of 
my  engagement,  the  following  new  r61es  were  added  to  the 
frequently  sung  old  ones:  Vielka  in  the  Feldlager,  Josepha 
in  the  Zietenhusaren,  Elvira  in  the  Stumme,  Amazilli  in 
Jessonda,  Fridjof  in  Sigurd,  and  Friede  in  Heimkehr. 

IV 

I  met  the  following  artists  as  members  of  the  Royal 
Opera : 

Pauline  Lucca,  spoiled,  beautiful,  and  interesting.  She 
told  us,  as  early  as  my  first  call  on  her,  that  she  was  positively 
going  to  America  in  1872,  and  intended  to  run  away  if  she 
did  not  receive  leave  of  absence. 

Mathilde  Mallinger,  who  was  the  possessor  of  very  pro- 
nounced talent  for  the  stage,  and  had  been  educated  at  the 
Prague  Conservatory.  She  had  just  come  from  Munich, 
and,  although  she  had  been  before  the  public  only  two  years, 
her  voice  had  already  deteriorated. 

Wilma  von  Voggenhuber,  a  dramatic  singer  of  much 
temperament,  and  with  a  very  beautiful  mezzo-soprano  voice, 
who,  unfortunately,  as  a  musician  said  to  me,  only  acted  the 
part  one  day  which  she  had  sung  the  day  before. 

Marianne  Brandt,  contralto,  a  serious  artist  of  rare  gifts. 

Frau  Harries- Wippern,  who  had  the  most  virgin  voice 
I  have  ever  heard.  She  was  much  admired  at  one  time,  and 
we  were  sorry  to  have  her  soon  leave  our  midst,  as,  on  account 
of  illness,  she  applied  very  early  for  a  pension. 


Berlin,  1870-1875  149 

Charlotte  Grossi,  a  pretty  young  Viennese,  with  a  rather 
pleasing  voice,  and  passably  good  colorature.  A  protegee 
of  Lucca's,  a  very  young  beginner,  who  had  already  been 
engaged,  however,  for  a  year,  she  had  taken  many  parts, 
and  had  developed  great  arrogance,  as  the  province  of  a 
colorature  singer  had  been  deserted.  The  role  of  Queen  of 
the  Night,  for  instance,  had  been  spoken  by  an  actress  for  a 
period  of  many  years! 

Louise  Horina,  a  singer  of  anything,  and  Marie  Gey,  an 
operatic  contralto. 

Albert  Niemann  was  our  leading  spirit,  to  whom  all 
conformed.  While  I  must  admit  that  I  had  to  become  accus- 
tomed to  his  voice,  because  he  sang  freely  only  as  an  opera 
progressed,  yet  his  artistic  authority  impressed  the  student 
at  once.  His  spiritual  conception  and  singularly  convincing 
expression  lent  him  increasing  worth  in  my  eyes,  the  more 
I  learned  to  perceive  the  hollowness  and  insufficiency  of  other 
singers  as  contrasted  with  him.  He  had  genius,  power,  and 
finished  artistry  in  combination  with  authority;  he  did  not 
dazzle,  he  convinced.  From  that  time  forward,  Niemann 
was  my  standard  for  the  singing  artist,  and  the  model,  even 
though  not  the  only  one,  for  my  striving. 

Next  to  him  stood  the  manly,  though  somewhat  in- 
flexible, Franz  Betz,  who  was  just  developing  towards  the 
"  Meister-singer. " 

August  Fricke,  our  noble  basso,  who  created  de- 
liciously  humorous  parts,  in  addition  to  all  the  serious 
ones. 

Anton  Woworsky,  our  most  elegant  colleague,  who  was 
waiting  for  his  early  pensioning. 

Otto  Schelper,  who  was  not  contented  in  Berlin,  and  who, 
unfortunately,  was  suffered  to  leave. 

Heinrich  Salomon,  bass  buffo,  an  excellent  actor,  of 
whom  his  future  father-in-law  said,  after  seeing  him  in  Don 
Juan,  that  it  was  evident  he  had  never  been  that  hero,  and 
so  he  would  trust  his  daughter  to  him  completely. 


150  My  Path  Through  Life 

Then  there  were  several  gentlemen  for  small  parts,  of 
whom  I  remember: 

Kriiger  (pseudonym),  the  tenor  buffo  who  was  called 
"Greasy  Love"  (Schmalzamor). 

There  remain  the  three  conductors:  W.  Taubert,  who 
conducted  almost  exclusively  court  concerts  or  his  very  good 
operas,  Macbeth  and  Cesar  io\  Carl  Eckert,  leader  of  all 
big  works,  and  Robert  Radecke  who  conducted  all  the 
operettas. 

With  the  company  mentioned  above,  which  was  filled 
up  by  the  addition  of  a  new  member  whenever  one  left, 
operas  were  given  daily,  and  from  two  to  four  ballets  a 
month,  and  it  was  very  seldom  that  one  opera  had  to  be 
substituted  for  another  that  had  been  withdrawn.  The 
personnel  to-day  is  ten  times  as  large,  and  the  countermand- 
ing of  performances  ten  times  as  frequent  as  then.  The 
agreeable  Heinrich  Ernst  took  the  place  of  Woworsky,  after 
about  two  years,  in  the  province  of  lyric  tenor,  and  William 
Miiller  sang  hero  parts  second  to  Niemann,  or  when  the 
latter  was  given  a  holiday. 

Theodor  Schmidt  followed  Schelper,  and  all  these  three 
came  from  Leipsic,  as  did  Richard  Kahle  and  Georg  Krause. 
Only  a  few  members  of  permanent  value  were  added  in  the 
course  of  the  ensuing  fifteen  years,  amongst  whom  Franz 
Krolop,  basso,  was  the  most  eminent. 

If  I  pause  awhile  over  many  an  artist  of  whom  only  a 
few  persons,  I  may  be  quite  sure,  are  able  to  remember  even 
the  name,  I  believe  that  I  am  thereby  fulfilling  a  pleasant 
duty,  in  throwing  into  relief  their  peculiarly  fine  qualities, 
which  entitled  them  to  be  known  and  loved  as  artists — capa- 
bilities of  special  value  which  were  possessed  by  no  other 
artist,  and  which  live  on  in  me  as  beautiful  memories,  and 
so  may  not  be  passed  by  without  my  grateful  recognition. 

We  had  chances  to  admire,  as  stars,  many  great  artists 
who  appeared  every  year  at  the  opera,  as  well  as  in  drama; 
who  brought  variety  and  fresh  interest  into  the  repertoire, 


Berlin,  1870-1875  151 

and  offered  me  incitements  to  work,  which  indeed  I  never 
lacked. 


Hulsen  informed  me  one  day  that  my  contract  had  been 
signed  by  the  King  at  the  headquarters  at  Ferrieres,  which, 
foolish  as  it  was,  filled  me  with  pride.  After  the  entrance  of 
the  troops,  that  we  witnessed  with  friends  from  a  house  on 
Unter  den  Linden,  I  became  acquainted  with  our  splendid 
Emperor,  Wilhelm  I.  He  often  conversed  with  me  at  court 
concerts,  and  at  the  opera,  which  he  attended  almost  every 
night.  There  was  then  a  little  stage  box  on  the  first  floor, 
for  the  use  of  the  solo  members  of  the  company  who  were 
singing  that  night,  where,  unseen  by  the  audience,  they  could 
follow  the  performance.  Parallel  to  the  stairway  leading 
thither,  there  was  another  from  the  stage  to  the  imperial 
proscenium  box,  separated  from  the  other  only  by  a  wooden 
partition,  and  which  conducted  His  Majesty  to  the  stage. 

About  three-quarters  of  the  way  up  there  was  a  small 
sash  window,  used  by  the  Emperor  and  other  members  of 
the  imperial  family,  when  they  wished  to  talk  with  the  artists 
between  the  acts.  It  was  there  that  I  chatted  with  him 
nearly  every  night,  during  the  operas  in  which  I  took  part, 
and  it  was  there  he  told  me  many  interesting  things.  Why 
did  I  not  write  down  everything  then  as  exactly  as  I  do  now? 
Many  a  precious  word  which  testified  to  his  boundless  good- 
ness, amiability,  simplicity,  and  worth  has  accordingly  been 
lost  from  my  recollection.  But  enough  still  remains  in  my 
memory  for  me  to  be  perpetually  reminded  how  thankful  I 
should  be  to  him  for  all  the  proofs  of  his  kindness  to  me. 

After  the  horrible  attempt  on  his  life,  when  he  was 
wounded,  and  from  the  consequences  of  which  he  long  had  to 
suffer,  he  came  once  more  to  the  little  window  on  the  stage, 
and  gave  me  his  hand,  gracious  as  ever.  When  I  enquired, 
with  emotion,  after  his  health,  and  expressed  my  deep-seated 


152  My  Path  Through  Life 

sympathy,  he  said,  "Matters  are  not  yet  as  they  should  be, 
for  I  still  am  unable  to  put  on  my  boots  alone."  That  made 
me  laugh,  and  say,  "But  Your  Majesty  does  not  need  to  do 
that!"  "  Yes  indeed, "  answered  the  Emperor,  "I  am  accus- 
tomed to  do  everything  for  myself,  and  it  makes  me  unhappy 
to  be  interfered  with.  I  pack  my  things  myself  when  I 
travel,  so  that  nothing  that  I  need  will  be  overlooked,  and 
now  I  am  hindered  in  every  way." 

Once,  as  we  were  talking  of  an  art  exhibition,  and  I  asked 
which  of  his  portraits  the  Emperor  considered  the  most 
successful,  he  said,  "Lenbach's,  as  Her  Majesty  likes  it 
best."  He  was  always  gallant,  and  the  first  of  cavaliers. 
It  was  touching,  when  we  artists  once  sat  in  the  centre  of  the 
hall,  at  a  court  concert  in  the  Round  Salon,  and  Frau  Artdt 
dropped  her  handkerchief,  as  she  rose.  I  bent  immediately  to 
pick  it  up,  but  the  Emperor  had  already  jumped  to  his  feet, 
and  he  hastened  over  to  do  the  same  thing. 

He  told  me,  shortly  before  I  left  Berlin,  how  well  he 
recalled  my  first  appearance,  and  how  he  was  impressed  by 
my  "pretty,  slender  foot,"  as  I  got  on  and  off  the  horse  in 
the  Hugenotten.  I  related  to  him  then,  at  once,  that  I  could 
not  ride  at  all  when  I  was  there  as  visiting  artist,  and  that 
I  had  been  sent,  after  the  rehearsal,  to  the  royal  stables  to 
acquire  the  art  of  mounting  and  dismounting  and  of  holding 
the  reins,  for,  in  Berlin,  it  was  customary  for  the  Queen,  in 
the  third  act,  to  enter  on  horseback,  to  dismount  on  the 
stage,  and  to  ride  once  around  it.  Then  I  learned  properly 
in  Leipsic,  and  often  rode  out  there  as  well  as  in  Berlin. 

His  Majesty  was  amused  by  a  little  adventure  that  I 
related  to  him.  I  was  going  home  one  night  alone  after  the 
Meister singer,  and  was  addressed  by  a  man  on  the  way,  who 
was  not  frightened  off  either  by  my  haughty  stare  or  my 
persistent  silence.  When  distant  only  two  hundred  paces 
from  home,  I  decided  to  speak  to  any  man  on  the  street  who 
might  protect  me.  The  first  I  saw  seemed  to  be  a  railroad 
official,  towards  whom  I  hurried,  but  when  I  begged  him  to 


Berlin,  1870-1875  153 

escort  me  the  short  distance  to  my  house,  which  he  was  very 

ready  to  do,  he  introduced  himself  as  Lieutenant  von  S of 

the  artillery,  in  whose  care  I  was  now  safe  from  further 
persecution.  As  I  was  praising  the  gallantry  of  his  officer,  the 
Emperor  said  with  feeling,  "I  should  have  done  the  same; 
what  a  pity  that  I  could  not  have  been  there. " 

Many  times  I  told  him  charming  anecdotes  that  were 
current  about  him.  I  often  met  the  Emperor's  body  physi- 
cian, Dr.  Lauer,  at  Privy  Councillor  Henry's.  It  was  said 
that  His  Majesty  was  eating  lobster  salad  one  evening,  and 
Lauer,  who  had  strictly  forbidden  the  dish,  surprised  him  at 
it.  Lauer  made  a  reproachful  face  at  the  Emperor,  where- 
upon the  latter  called  out  cheerfully:  "Since  I  promised, 
my  dear  Lauer,  to  make  you  an  Excellency  if  I  lived  to  be 
eighty,  you  begrudge  me  everything  that's  worth  eating." 
The  Emperor  laughed  heartily  at  this  joke,  and  admitted 
that  "  se  non  e  vero  e  ben  trovato,"  and,  after  all,  Dr.  Lauer 
became  an  Excellency. 

The  Emperor  was  often  seen  at  work,  between  the  acts, 
in  the  anteroom  of  his  box,  if  the  door  was  accidentally 
opened.  He  told  me  that,  otherwise,  he  could  never  get 
through  with  his  work.  He  always  sat  unseen  at  the  back 
of  his  small  proscenium  box,  and  only  when  the  Empress 
or  the  Grand  Duchess  of  Baden,  his  daughter,  was  with  him 
in  the  theatre  did  he  sit  with  the  ladies  in  front,  next  the 
stage,  where  I  doubt  if  he  felt  so  comfortable.  In  later 
years  he  often  slept  during  the  music.  At  least  we 
thought  we  saw  him  do  it  from  our  theatre  box 
opposite. 

His  favourite  operas  were,  Die  Weisse  Frau,  Das  Goldene 
Kreuz,  Der  Barbier  von  Sevilla,  and  other  comic  operas  and 
ballets,  from  which  he  was  never  absent,  save  for  important 
reasons.  Tears  of  profound  emotion  often  filled  my  eyes 
when  I  talked  with  him.  He  knew  how  to  express  interest 
in  each  person  so  beautifully  that  one  had  to  believe  that 
he  really  cared  what  one  did  and  thought,  and  he  always 


154  My  Path  Through  Life 

waited  for  an  answer,  a  thing  that  few  great  people  under- 
stand how  to  do. 

How  remarkably  did  he  differ,  in  this  respect,  from  the 
Empress.  She  was  one  of  the  most  industrious  of  women  on 
the  throne,  with  a  keen  sense  of  duty,  who  did  not  have  an 
easy  time  and  did  not  know  how  to  make  it  easier.  Her  best 
intentions  were  usually  misunderstood  by  those  whom  she 
addressed  and  those  whom  she  approached.  She  was  not 
as  well  known  as  the  Emperor,  who  was  frankness  itself,  and 
who  refreshed  and  rejoiced  others  with  the  feeling  of  noblest 
sincerity,  which  the  Empress  appeared  to  lack  in  such  degree. 
But  I  know  how  seriously  she  took  her  duties  as  Mother  of 
the  People,  how  faithfully  she  pursued  measures  for  their 
happiness,  and  how  she  never  permitted  illness  nor  old  age 
to  prevent  her  from  dedicating  herself  entirely  to  them. 

VI 

During  the  years  1871-72,  there  were  innumerable  char- 
ity concerts  given  by  the  elect  and  the  unelect,  who  wanted 
to  curry  favour  with  those  "above,"  and  often  enough, 
indeed,  they  resulted  in  decorations  being  bestowed  on  them. 
It  is  not  an  exaggeration  when  I  say  that  Marianne  Brandt, 
the  ever  charitable  and  obliging,  and  I  sang  in  at  least 
twenty-five  concerts  for  the  benefit  of  the  soldiers  and  those 
who  had  survived  them.  After  one  of  these  concerts,  which 
was  given  under  the  patronage  of  the  Empress,  I  received  a 
letter  of  thanks,  with  her  autograph  signature,  that  I  have 
kept  as  a  memento  of  the  royal  lady. 

The  idea  of  being  rewarded  for  an  act  of  charity  that  I 
perform  very  gladly  has  always  been  intolerable  to  me,  and 
I  am  known  sufficiently  well  for  it  to  be  unnecessary  to 
state  that  I  did  not  think  of  obtaining  a  decoration  for  any 
such  deed.  But  as  so  many  "lint  pickers"  and  "bandage 
sewers,"  who  had  also  embroidered  with  such  delicate 
sentiment,  auf  Wiedersehen,  on  their  articles,  received  high 


Berlin,  1870-1875  155 

decorations,  I  am  justified  in  asking  how  it  happened  that 
artists,  who  had  been,  are,  and  always  will  be  unselfishly  and 
self-sacrificingly  charitable  to  a  remarkable  degree,  were 
not  the  recipients  of  decorations,  as  were  the  "lint  pickers" 
and  other  associates  in  philanthropic  work.  But,  for  aught 
I  care,  what  is  good  for  one  is  good  for  all!  I  would  have 
let  Marianne  Brandt  have  this  distinction  with  the  best  of 
good  will. 

One  is  made  fully  aware,  on  such  occasions,  how  much 
beneath  the  level  of  the  activities  mentioned  above  do  many 
people  place  divine  art,  which  demands  of  those  who  would 
acquire  it,  talent,  soul,  and  the  sacrifice  of  a  whole  life. 
And  I  am  overpowered  by  grief,  when  I  perceive  how  far 
general  culture  still  is  from  a  proper  valuation  of  art  and 
artists. 

VII 

I  had  already  become  a  part  of  the  circle  of  artists,  many 
of  whom  stood  far  above  me.  The  incitement  and  necessity 
of  working  with  them  artistically  I  had  long  yearned  after. 
My  goal  was  to  imitate  the  best,  in  which  I  had  not  yet 
succeeded  from  my  own  effort,  to  reach  or  even  to  overtake 
them  at  last;  to  escape  from  the  sphere  of  those  of  small 
talents  and  no  perseverance;  to  rise  on  my  own  spiritual 
feet ;  to  place  myself  beside  the  greatest  through  ability  and 
knowledge.  This  was  an  ambition  that  meant  an  incessant 
struggle  between  my  spiritual  powers  and  my  bodily  in- 
sufficiency, and  a  never-ending  conflict,  moreover.  It  was 
essential  to  find  the  causes  of  this  lack  of  correspondence, 
and  to  conquer  them,  for  which  I  needed  a  long  life. 

Although,  at  first,  the  "Greatest"  looked  upon  me  with 
superciliousness,  I  was  not  treated  with  unfriendliness  from 
the  beginning.  I  got  myself  in  trouble,  however,  when  I,  in 
opposition  to  the  "very  Greatest,"  with  all  modesty,  took 
the  part  of  three  of  my  associates,  who  had  spoiled  his  big 


156  My  Path  Through  Life 

scene  in  Rienzi.  A  very  old  artist  and  a  younger  tenor, 
both  of  whom  were  nearly  blind  when  without  their  eye- 
glasses, and  who  represented  two  conspirators  in  that  opera, 
together  with  Marianne  Brandt  as  Adriano,  should  have 
stood,  in  the  fourth  act,  by  the  rear  pillar  of  the  church  door, 
and  then  disappeared  quietly  behind  the  church  as  soon  as 
Rienzi,  cursed  by  the  priests  and  spellbound  on  the  steps 
of  the  edifice,  stands,  apparently  forsaken  by  every  one, 
even  including  his  sister,  Irene,  who  has  fallen  in  a  faint  a 
short  distance  away.  The  populace  has  fled;  no  one  is  left 
on  the  stage  except  Rienzi  and  Irene.  At  last  Adriano 
rushes  forward  to  Irene  to  carry  her  away  with  him.  Irene 
recovers  consciousness,  thrusts  Adriano  aside  in  frantic 
excitement,  perceives  Rienzi,  who  is  turned  to  stone,  and 
throws  herself  on  his  breast.  Rienzi,  with  renewed  life 
coursing  through  him,  shakes  off  his  torpor,  clasps  Irene's 
head  in  his  still  trembling  hands,  kisses  her  ardently,  with 
tears  in  his  voice  and  heart,  queries  with  deep  agitation, 
"Irene,  is  it  you?"  summons  all  his  powers,  and  cries  with 
enthusiasm  as  he  presses  his  beloved  sister  to  him,  "There 
is  still  a  Rome!" 

Yes,  there  was  yet  a  Rienzi  and  a  Rome,  as  this  master 
portrayed  him  with  his  spirit,  his  authority,  and  his  tears. 
But  him,  too,  shall  no  one  see  again,  nor  shall  one  ever  know 
a  true  Rienzi  again.  Blest  were  we  that  we  yet  beheld  him, 
and  could  feel  and  triumph  with  him. 

But  we  must  return  to  the  conspirators,  who  had  placed 
themselves  in  front  of  Rienzi  instead  of  behind  him.  Nie- 
mann,  as  soon  as  he  observed  it,  motioned  to  them  to  step 
back.  All  three  of  them  understood  it  to  be  an  invitation 
from  Niemann  to  take  a  more  conspicuous  part  in  the  ac- 
tion, and  began  to  attract  attention  in  front,  and  to  act  the 
conspirator  as  never  before.  Niemann's  anger  increased,  as 
they  neither  saw  nor  heard  anything,  and  also  continued  deaf 
and  dumb  to  my  calls  and  winks. 

In  mortal  fear,  I  asked  myself  how  it  would  end.     The 


Berlin,  1870-1875  157 

three  had  really  spoiled  the  scene  for  him,  as  Adriatic  now 
had  to  pass  in  front  of  Rienzi,  in  order  to  reach  Irene.  It 
could  not  be  thought  out.  The  audience  was  as  rapturous  as 
usual  at  the  end  of  the  act,  for  it  had  noticed  nothing,  and 
called  Niemann  before  the  curtain  a  dozen  times.  And  I, 
poor  young  thing,  although  I  had  contributed  nothing  except 
my  best  (which  at  that  time  had  begun  to  show  little  on  the 
outside  but  lay  deep  within  me),  was  dragged  out  with  him 
in  the  clutches  of  the  lion  who  would  not  let  me  go.  I, 
myself,  was  overcome  after  the  scene,  by  the  might  of  this 
Titan,  by  this  scene,  which,  as  given  by  "him,"  must  have 
overwhelmed  every  one. 

When  we  left  the  stage  the  three,  who,  of  course,  were 
no  longer  there,  had  to  be  dealt  with.  Then  Niemann's 
irritation  broke  loose ;  the  lion  roared  for  the  taste  of  blood. 
I  saw  how  excited  the  man  was  after  the  terribly  agitating 
scene,  and  the  unlucky  idea  came  to  me  to  beg  him  humbly 
to  compose  himself,  as  the  three  culprits  had  misunderstood 
him,  and  had  upset  the  scene  unintentionally.  He  needed 
only  a  victim,  and  in  his  rage  sprang  at  me.  He  roared  at 
me  so  savagely  that  it  was  none  of  my  business,  that  I  ran  to 
my  dressing-room,  sobbing  loudly,  and  was  scarcely  able  to 
sing  the  last  act  to  the  end. 

The  next  day  I  asked  for  my  discharge,  without  result, 
but  reparation  was  promised  me.  I  waited  a  long  time, 
in  vain,  for  this  compensation.  The  "Great  One,"  or  the 
"Tall  One,"  as  the  gentlemen  called  him,  did  not  exist  any 
more  for  me.  I  did  not  hear  his  bravos,  all  his  words  of 
praise  fell  on  deaf  ears,  and,  although  I  did  not  slight  any- 
thing in  the  scenes  I  played  with  him,  I  held  myself  aloof 
for  full  three  years  from  all  intercourse,  until  one  day  the 
tension  in  ideal  spheres,  in  which  no  artist's  heart  could  waste 
itself,  was  happily  terminated. 

This  was  the  only  discord  in  the  fifteen  years  of  my  con- 
nection with  the  Berlin  opera.  My  attitude  had  won  me 
the  respect  of  the  others,  however,  for  Betz,  who  was  not 


158  My  Path  Through  Life 

very  communicative,  said  to  me  one  day,  "You  certainly 
have  character." 

An  exemplary  tone  prevailed  among  the  Berlin  artists, 
which  was  never  disturbed  by  the  least  remissness  or  coarse- 
ness. I  am  happy  to  say  that  I  found  this  excellent  tone  in 
Prague,  Dantzic,  and  Leipsic,  for  which,  of  course,  not  only 
the  directors,  managers,  and  conductors  are  responsible, 
but  to  which  each  individual,  indeed  almost  every  one,  can 
contribute  by  being  inaccessible  to  those  who  are  less  well- 
bred.  The  intimate  "Du"  that  is  used  in  Austria  between 
all  artists,  and  amongst  officers,  as  I  hear,  is  rarely  employed 
in  Germany,  except  amongst  those  who  are  linked  together 
by  long  years  of  association  and  friendship. 

The  Austrian  habit  of  unconcerned  cordiality,  which  is 
completely  wanting  in  the  artistic  circles  of  North  Germany, 
as  long  as  it  is  kept  within  bounds,  gives  much  comfort  to 
the  easily  susceptible  artist.  Only  too  gladly  do  I  surrender 
myself,  in  passing,  to  this  amiability,  and  yet  I  prefer  the 
seriousness  of  the  German  artists.  The  extreme  unconcern 
of  the  Austrian  artist  is  not  easy  to  bear,  in  the  long  run, 
during  protracted  intercourse.  Work  is  taken  more  earnestly 
in  Germany.  On  the  other  hand,  Austria  possesses  stronger 
talents,  which  flow  forth  to  others  warmly  with  direct 
heartiness,  the  effective  originality  which  we  Germans  are 
impelled  by  inner  recognition  and  glad  longing  to  hail 
joyously. 

VIII 

A  performance  of  Figaro,  with  Frau  Mallinger  as 
Susanne  and  Frau  Lucca  as  the  Page,  was  announced  for 
January  27,  1872.  I  should  have  gone  to  Dantzic  for  a 
special  engagement  on  the  night  of  the  26th  but  Hulsen 
asked  me  to  postpone  my  journey  until  early  on  the  28th. 
He  begged  me,  on  the  evening  of  the  27th,  to  be  present  at 
the  Figaro  performance,  as  it  was  possible  I  should  have  to 


Berlin,  1870-1875  159 

sing  one  or  the  other  parts  in  the  course  of  the  night.  Un- 
lovely scenes  had  already  occurred  between  Mallinger  and 
Lucca.  A  short  time  previously,  after  a  production  of  Fatist, 
some  one  had  shouted  at  Lucca  in  her  carriage,  "street- 
walker" or  a  similar  epithet,  and,  since  she  complained 
about  it,  she  afterwards  drove  in  and  out  from  the  perform- 
ances by  the  imperial  entrance — the  Emperor  had  com- 
manded it!  So  I  waited,  on  the  27th  of  January,  in  the 
artist's  box,  for  whatever  might  happen. 

The  performance  was  stimulating  and  exciting  enough. 
When  Frau  Lucca  appeared  as  the  Page,  the  galleries  shouted, 
hissed,  and  whistled,  and  the  attempt  to  say  a  word  was 
scarcely  made  when  the  uproar  began  afresh.  Even  Eckert's 
intention  of  beginning  the  Page's  aria  with  the  orchestra  was 
a  complete  failure.  Lucca  finally  made  signs  that  she  wished 
to  speak,  whereupon  the  hissing  and  applause  subsided,  and 
she  said,  in  the  thoroughly  Lucca-like  way,  "I  do  not  know 
what  you  want  of  me;  I  am  not  aware  of  having  done  any- 
thing wrong,  and  I  ask  whether  I  shall  sing  or  not?"  More 
noise,  until,  at  last,  the  applause  and  calls  of  "Sing!" 
overcame  the  hissing  and  shouting,  and  the  performance 
could  proceed. 

Both  of  the  ladies  had  seen  me  sitting  up  in  the  box, 
otherwise  one  or  the  other  would  assuredly  have  fallen  in  a 
faint,  and  the  performance  would  have  been  interrupted. 
But  the  matter  was  not  yet  ended.  In  the  second  act,  it  is 
customary  for  Susanne  to  give  the  Page  a  kiss  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  little  aria.  Frau  Mallinger,  who  was  perpetually, 
and  not  on  this  evening  only,  seeking  after  new  nuances,  and 
who  often  carried  this  habit  too  far,  gave  Lucca  a  little  blow 
on  the  cheek,  instead  of  a  kiss.  Frau  Lucca  complained  of 
the  "box  on  the  ear,"  and  the  scandal  continued  to  the  end 
of  the  opera.  It  was  a  disgrace  to  the  Royal  Opera  and  to 
both  of  the  women.  It  could  not  be  decided,  at  the  time, 
who  was  in  the  right,  and  now — I  have  forgotten. 

Lucca  was  in  Berlin  for  almost  twelve  years,  receiving  a 


160  My  Path  Through  Life 

salary  of  only  eight  thousand  thalers;  she  wanted  to  go  to 
America,  and  applied,  once  again,  for  a  leave  of  absence, 
which  was  refused  her.  When  Figaro  was  announced  soon 
after,  the  audience  arrived  and  found  the  doors  locked — 
Frau  Lucca  had  gone  to  America!  From  that  time  on  I 
sang  many  of  her  parts. 

IX 

In  September  of  that  year,  we  saw  the  parade  for  the 
three  Emperors,  at  the  Tempelhoferfeld,  with  our  friend 
Kohler,  who  was  sent  out  specially  to  Berlin  by  his  paper  for 
this  occasion.  Also,  among  many  festivities,  a  grand  court 
concert  took  place  in  the  White  Salon,  at  which  I  sang,  and 
I  saw,  for  the  first  time,  all  the  splendour  of  the  great  cere- 
monies and  the  three  Emperors,  Wilhelm  I,  Franz  Josef  I, 
and  Alexander  II,  besides  Bismarck  and  Moltke.  It  was 
the  last  court  concert  at  which  Bismarck  was  present.  The 
scene  was  wonderful.  It  is  in  the  White  Salon  of  the  Berlin 
palace  that  all  great  ceremonies  and  festivities  are  enacted. 

Across  the  hall,  at  its  upper  end,  is  a  platform  for  the 
orchestra  and  singers.  A  wide  aisle  is  kept  open  the  length 
of  the  salon.  To  the  right  of  the  orchestra,  the  Emperor 
sits,  in  the  centre,  on  a  throne-like  chair — on  that  evening 
the  three  Emperors — with  the  Empress;  a  little  lower,  and 
on  either  side  of  Their  Majesties,  are  the  Crown  Prince  and 
Princess  and  all  the  other  Princes  and  Princesses  of  the 
Imperial  House.  Bismarck  and  Moltke  were  directly  behind 
the  Emperor  that  night.  Facing  Their  Majesties,  to  the 
left  of  the  orchestra,  sit  the  ambassadors  with  their  wives, 
and  behind  them  the  entire  diplomatic  corps  and  their  ladies, 
all  the  ministers  and  other  high  officials,  as  well  as  the  officers 
of  high  rank.  Opposite  the  orchestra  are  the  younger  officers 
with  their  wives  and  other  guests,  as  far  as  the  adjoining 
galleries  and  rooms,  which  the  court  traverses  upon  its 
entrance.  Although  the  concert  does  not  begin  until  ten 


Berlin,  1870-1875  161 

o'clock,  every  one  must  be  in  his  seat  in  the  salon  as  early  as 
half -past  eight,  and  only  we  singers,  because  we  used  a  sepa- 
rate entrance,  had  the  privilege  of  arriving  later.  As  every 
one  was  obliged  to  stand,  the  ladies  were  often  dead  tired 
before  anything  began,  and  real  pity  always  seized  me  when 
I  saw  the  little  Chinese  Ambassadress  standing,  and  thought 
of  her  tiny  stumps  of  feet,  for  she  might  not  sit  either,  and 
must  have  endured  extreme  pain. 

The  court  trains  of  the  Empress  and  royal  Princesses 
are  borne  by  pages  in  rococo  uniforms,  but  all  the  other  ladies 
carry  their  court  trains,  themselves,  thrown  over  the  arm. 
The  pages  spread  the  trains  over  the  steps  of  the  throne, 
after  Their  Majesties  have  taken  their  seats,  and  place  them- 
selves close  in  front  of  the  orchestra.  The  concert  begins  as 
soon  as  the  chief  master  of  ceremonies  has  given  the  signal 
to  start. 

During  the  intermissions,  Their  Majesties  converse 
first  with  the  ambassadors  and  their  wives,  and  that  is 
regulated  according  to  time  and  politics,  then  with  all  such 
individuals  as  are  to  be  especially  distinguished.  That  night, 
the  Emperor,  after  discharging  this  duty  to  the  rear  rows  of 
the  ladies  of  the  diplomatic  corps  on  the  left,  seeking  out 
this  one  and  that  one,  when  returning,  passed  close  to  the 
orchestra,  where  he  always  greeted  us  artists  kindly,  after 
he  had  first  given  his  hand  to  Taubert,  the  court  conductor. 
After  everybody  had  resumed  their  seats  the  second  part  of 
the  concert  began.  At  its  close,  all  remained  standing  until 
the  court,  after  saluting  the  assembled  guests  in  a  body,  had 
withdrawn,  when  everything  broke  up. 

The  Empress  was  always  present  at  the  rehearsals,  which 
took  place  the  same  morning  in  the  palace,  in  order  to 
inform  herself  fully  about  all  the  arrangements.  The  royal 
lady  greeted  us  and  enquired  after  each  and  all.  Court 
Conductor  Taubert  presented  the  programme  to  her,  and 
she  selected  what  seemed  to  her  best  suited  to  her  guests. 

Only  big  pieces  were  performed  at  these  concerts.     It 


1 62  My  Path  Through  Life 

was  otherwise  at  the  little  Thursday  concerts,  which  took 
place  at  the  palace  of  Their  Majesties  on  Unter  den  Linden. 
There  everything  passed  off  very  cosily.  The  company 
sat,  in  groups  of  six  or  eight  persons,  at  small  round  tables, 
decked  with  beautiful  flowers.  The  piano  stood  close  in 
front  of  the  Empress,  so  close  that  one  scarcely  had  room 
enough  to  make  a  proper  courtesy.  The  Empress  Augusta 
presided  at  one  table,  the  Emperor  at  the  next,  the  Crown 
Prince  at  a  third,  and  the  Crown  Princess  at  still  another. 
Prince  and  Princess  Karl,  the  brother  and  sister  of  Their 
Majesties,  were  there,  while  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the 
court  were  distributed  everywhere  according  to  rank  and 
custom. 

Princess  Karl  was  one  of  the  most  amiable  women  of  our 
Imperial  House,  and  always  marked  me  out  for  special  dis- 
tinction. She  was  the  only  one  who  always  carried  fresh 
flowers  in  her  hands,  who  wore  the  most  tasteful  and  elegant 
toilettes  of  the  entire  court,  loved  animals,  and  always  was 
accompanied  in  her  walks  by  three  huge  black  and  white 
Russian  greyhounds.  She  talked  with  me  in  the  street, 
and  at  Wiesbaden,  where  I  often  met  her,  with  special 
pleasure.  She  always  removed  her  veil  when  she  was  talking 
with  me,  a  delicate  act  which  I  valued  very  highly  from  her, 
because  I  had  been  taught  it,  and  it  pleased  me  doubly  to 
see  this  tender  consideration  reversed  in  this  case.  She 
always  knew  how  to  say  pleasant  and  agreeable  things, 
and  I  have  preserved  a  grateful  recollection  of  her  goodness, 
and,  especially,  of  her  love  for  animals. 

X 

When  I  was  admitted  to  these  Thursday  concerts  for  the 
first  time — we  artists  were  in  a  room  adjoining  the  salon,  and 
could  be  seen  by  everybody  as  the  big  folding  doors  stood 
open — Prince  Karl,  whom  I  had  already  met  at  the  theatre, 
walked  up  to  me  after  a  musical  selection,  and  immediately 


Berlin,   1870-1875  163 

following  him  came  a  young  woman,  whose  hair  was  simply 
dressed,  and  who  had  wonderful  blue  eyes.  She  spoke  to 
me  very  amiably,  and  as  simply  and  naturally  as  she  looked, 
then  turned  to  the  Prince,  and  asked  him  to  excuse  her  if 
she  left  as  she  had  a  frightful  headache.  Hulsen  informed 
me  that  it  was  the  Crown  Princess  who  had  spoken  to  me. 
Angeli  has  portrayed  her  glorious  blue  eyes  very  wonderfully, 
and  preserved  them  for  us,  and  yet  only  those  who  really 
knew  her  can  have  any  accurate  conception  of  their  expres- 
sion. I  talked  to  her  three  times  on  special  occasions :  once, 
at  the  palace  of  the  Crown  Prince,  immediately  after  Bay- 
reuth  where  we  sang  the  Rhine  maidens  scene  with  Ernst  as 
Siegfried;  a  second  time,  at  the  house  of  Lord  and  Lady 
Russell  Ampthill,  the  English  Ambassador,  and  finally,  as 
the  Empress  Dowager  at  Grunewald,  when  she  approached 
me,  held  out  her  hand,  and  said  to  me  these  memorable  words : 
"  You  can  have  no  idea  of  the  martyrdom  I  am  under- 
going!" 

But  indeed  I  could  picture  it  to  myself.  Little  as  I 
knew  of  the  inner  struggles  of  this  unhappy  woman,  my 
whole  heart  went  out  to  her  in  her  martyrdom.  Without 
suspecting  how  far  her  sufferings  had  advanced,  I  attempted, 
shortly  before  her  death,  to  offer  her  my  services  as  an  artist 
with  intent  to  give  her  pleasure,  but  I  was  informed  by  a 
friend  that  she  declined  with  thanks.  She  was,  unfortu- 
nately, no  longer  able  to  see  any  one,  and  soon  after  she  was 
released  by  death  from  her  physical  and  spiritual  martyrdom. 

Beauty,  manliness,  and  radiant  cheerfulness  were  the 
Crown  Prince's  attributes.  Every  countenance  about  him 
cleared  and  reflected  the  brightness  of  this  personality, 
which  was  to  expire  by  such  a  terrible  fate.  I  can  still  hear 
the  shouts  of  the  crowds  when  he  walked  along,  and  how,  at 
the  Golden  Jubilee  of  Queen  Victoria  in  London,  all  England 
cheered  him  as  though  he  were  the  British  King.  And  I 
can  see  him  in  his  perfect  beauty,  galloping  along  in  the 
uniform,  dazzling  in  the  brilliant  summer  light,  of  the  Queen's 


1 64  My  Path  Through  Life 

Cuirassiers,  unsuspicious  of  the  inexorable  fate  that  had 
already  marked  him  within. 

XI 

We  stood  on  a  peculiar  footing  with  Princess  Friedrich 
Karl,  born  Princess  of  Anhalt,  descendant  of  the  beautiful 
Anna-Liese.  Artistically  cultured,  spoiled  by  the  excellent 
theatre  that  the  Court  of  Anhalt  always  maintained,  she  was 
interested  in  art  and  artist,  went  nightly  to  the  opera-house, 
and  gave  us  to  understand,  by  glances  at  our  box,  when  she 
was  pleased  or  displeased.  She  observed  very  closely,  and 
was  always  correct  in  her  verdict.  If  she  had  been  able  to 
play  a  freer  part  at  court,  or  even  in  Berlin,  she  certainly 
would  have  brought  all  the  artists  together  at  her  house. 
As  she  could  not  do  this,  one  had  to  be  content  with  seeing, 
understanding,  and  loving  her.  Prince  Karl  introduced  her 
lovely  daughters,  his  grandchildren,  to  me  at  Wiesbaden. 
Prince  Friedrich  Karl,  like  Bismarck,  after  the  Three  Emper- 
ors' Celebration  absented  himself  from  all  court  concerts  and 
theatres.  He  occupied  himself  with  forestry  and  gardening, 
which  he  cultivated  passionately,  and  even  with  his  own 
hands,  and  he  derived  more  satisfaction  from  it  than  from 
any  ceremonial  pomp. 

Besides  the  still  very  youthful  daughters  of  the  Crown 
Prince,  those  of  the  very  elegant  Princess  Alexandrine  von 
Mecklenburg-Schwerin  belonged  to  this  select  circle. 

The  venerable  Dowager  Grand-Duchess  of  Mecklenburg- 
Schwerin, — of  whose  girlhood  Heinrich  Heine  has  so  much  to 
tell  us, — who  was  the  very  aged  sister  of  the  Emperor,  and 
Grand  Duchess  Luise  von  Baden,  his  daughter,  came  to 
Berlin  only  on  special  occasions  as  did  many  other  crowned 
heads  and  princelings,  that  completed  the  illustrious 
assemblage. 

There  was  a  performance  in  the  picture  gallery  on  March 
22d,  in  honour  of  the  Emperor's  birthday.  Short  portions 


Berlin,  1870-1875  165 

of  operas  were  given,  or  little  acts  that  were  written,  composed, 
or  combined  with  the  purpose  of  amusing,  but  which,  in 
my  humble  opinion,  did  not  afford  the  least  pleasure,  and 
I  fancy  that  everybody  must  have  been  bored  to  death  by 
them.  Court  Conductor  Taubert,  who  had  to  take  into 
account  personal  tastes,  the  possible  and  the  impossible,  had 
to  labour  continually  with  Desiree  Artot  de  Padilla,  a  singu- 
larly lovely  woman  and  artist,  Empress  Augusta's  favourite, 
to  invent  operas  and  scenes,  write  texts,  and  compose  a 
hodge-podge  in  order  to  have  everything  go  right  in  some 
measure.  Each  individual  wanted  to  co-operate,  and  was 
offended  if  passed  over.  But  Frau  Artot  arranged,  combined, 
and  shifted  voices,  persons,  and  scenes  in  anyway  she  thought 
advisable,  did  everything  that  could  be  done,  and  even, 
because  she  was  too  stout  to  appear  as  a  boy,  made  a  Pier- 
otta  out  of  the  Savoyard  boy  Pierotto  in  Linda  von  Chamonix, 
from  which  a  scene  was  given.  She  turned  choruses  into 
quartets,  made  duets  out  of  arias,  etc. ;  in  short,  did  any- 
thing that  was  required  to  give  general  satisfaction. 
Desiree  Artdt  de  Padilla  was  the  finest  woman  that  I  have 
ever  known  on  the  stage.  She  was  not  only  bewitchingly 
amiable  as  an  artist,  but  was  also  polished  in  society  and 
thoroughly  kind-hearted.  I  owe  more  than  I  can  express 
to  her  and  her  lovely  character  and  her  fine,  grand  artistry. 

There  were  plentiful  cold  collations  provided  at  the  birth- 
day celebrations,  in  a  gallery  adjoining  the  White  Salon,  for 
all  the  assembled  artists  of  the  stage.  The  buffet  must 
have  been  very  attractive,  for  Fraulein  Trepplin  once  said 
to  me,  as  I  was  about  to  sing  at  the  opera,  previous  to  a 
performance  at  the  palace,  "I  envy  you,  Fraulein  Lehmann, 
that  you  are  going  up  to-day  where  there  are  such  good 
quivery  things."  She  meant  by  "  quivery,"  the  aspics,  jellies, 
and  galantines  in  which  the  cold  dainties  quivered. 

The  collation  was  wonderful,  indeed,  and  wine  and  cham- 
pagne flowed  in  rivers.  There  was  a  marvellous  warm  white 
punch  served  on  Shrove  Tuesday,  that  was  so  fine  I  plucked 


i66  My  Path  Through  Life 

up  courage  to  ask  the  Emperor  for  the  recipe.  He  told  me 
that  his  mother,  Queen  Luise,  had  brought  it  with  her  from 
a  convent  at  Konigsberg,  had  kept  it  a  secret,  and  that  even 
he  did  not  know  exactly  how  it  was  prepared. 

Servants  put  white  tissue  paper  under  our  plates,  that 
sweets  might  be  carried  away  in  it.  Officers  might  be  seen 
going  downstairs  with  their  parade  helmets  filled  with  bon- 
bons. I  always  took  two  or  three  pieces  for  a  little  child  at 
our  house,  and  told  her  each  time,  "The  Emperor  has 
sent  you  this."  The  child  was  overjoyed,  and,  for  many 
years,  I  did  not  substitute  truth  in  place  of  the  little  lies 
that  made  her  so  happy. 

The  most  informal  times,  however,  were  after  the  small 
Thursday  concerts  at  the  palace.  Then  we,  also,  with  the 
younger  officers  and  diplomats,  ate  at  little  tables  in  the 
connecting  salon.  Count  Perponcher,  who  was  marshal  of 
the  court,  and  Herr  von  Hulsen  usually  sat  with  us,  for 
there  were  always  only  a  few  specially  selected  persons  there. 
The  supper  was  just  as  delicious  on  these  occasions,  only, 
unfortunately,  one  had  to  eat  too  quickly.  Whoever  did 
not  hold  on  to  his  plate  and  glasses  did  not  have  his  food, 
for  they  were  gone  before  a  glass  had  been  touched  or  a  morsel 
tasted.  If  a  word  was  said  to  a  friendly  neighbour,  it  was 
adieu  le  saumon,  la  salade,  le  vin.  This  happened  to  me  just 
once,  and  then  I  kept  hold  of  what  I  had.  Each  person 
received  a  glass  of  red  wine  and  one  of  white  wine,  and  a  glass 
of  champagne  and  another  of  water  were  offered.  Whoever 
drank  quickly  got  a  second  glass,  but  the  man  who  proceeded 
slowly  got  nothing,  for  everything  was  cleared  away  while 
he  looked  around.  After  consultation  with  Count  Perpon- 
cher, I  brought  it  about  that  a  whole  decanter  of  red  wine 
stood  on  the  artists'  table,  from  which  we  could  pour  at  will, 
without  fear  that  it  would  vanish  too  quickly. 

Those  were  lucky  who  went  to  the  court  concert  directly 
from  dinner.  But  I  dined  at  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
drank  a  cup  of  tea  at  four,  and  usually  sang  a  big  part,  which 


Berlin,  1870-1875  167 

one  cannot  sing  on  a  full  stomach,  at  the  opera  before  the 
court  concert.  There  was  scarcely  time  after  the  perform- 
ance to  remove  my  make-up,  dress  my  hair  again,  and  change 
my  costume,  when  I  had  to  go  on  the  run  to  the  often  very  im- 
portant concert.  Every  one,  who  is  in  a  position  to  have  an 
idea  of  the  spiritual  and  physical  fatigue  of  such  chasing 
about,  can  understand  that  I  longed  for  a  bite  and  enjoyed 
a  glass  of  wine  towards  midnight. 

It  was  really  not  a  small  matter  to  learn  from  four  to  six 
little  pieces,  between  morning  and  evening,  for  the  Thursday 
concerts.  Frau  Art6t  sang  with  me  a  large  number  of  duets 
in  every  language  and  dialect, — French,  Spanish,  Russian, 
and  Swedish  with  colorature  and  cadenzas,  that  were  often 
not  planned  until  the  afternoon  at  the  rehearsals,  and  were 
frequently  changed  at  night  in  the  midst  of  the  singing.  As 
I  had  to  know  everything  at  least  half  by  heart  it  was  a  great 
effort  and  called  for  intense  concentration.  No  one  could 
have  done  it  except  myself.  Frau  Artot  liked  best  to  sing 
with  me,  on  account  of  my  musical  certainty,  and  that  I 
profited  greatly  from  this  is  easy  to  understand. 

I  could  tell  on  the  night  in  question,  without  it  being 
necessary  to  say  a  word  to  me.  how  and  what  we  should  or 
should  not  do,  i.  e.t  whether  we  should  make  changes,  with- 
out a  word  of  explanation  being  offered  me;  I  was  prepared 
for  everything.  It  was  easy  for  me,  and  yet  it  had  to  be 
learned,  and  I  could  not  disgrace  myself  in  the  midst  of 
these  international  artists  in  language.  These  evenings 
brought  me  much  praise,  filled  me  with  pride,  and  made  my 
dear  mother  very  happy. 

Even  if  we  had  been  honoured  by  both  Their  Majesties 
conversing  with  us  during  the  intermission,  yet  Emperor 
William  always  kept  a  very  special  surprise  for  the  end  of  the 
evening,  after  the  hurried  supper,  when  he  would  come  up  to 
our  table,  and,  in  the  most  charming  manner,  talk  jokingly 
for  a  while  with  us  and  other  young  people.  He  always  knew, 
as  though  by  magic,  how  to  make  happy  hearts  and  faces. 


168  My  Path  Through  Life 

At  these  Thursday  gatherings  I  met,  also,  the  Hereditary 
Grand  Duke  of  Mecklenburg-Schwerin,  the  father  of  our 
present  bewitching  Crown  Princess  Cecilie.  The  young 
Prince  was  exceptionally  modest  and  simple  in  his  personality, 
and  always  equally  amiable  through  all  the  years  that  I 
encountered  him  there.  I  felt  a  keen  human  interest  in 
him,  probably  chiefly  for  the  reason  that  he  was  reported 
to  be  ill,  and  I  was  more  than  pleased  when  he  showed  me, 
one  evening,  his  beautiful  fiancee,  the  Grand  Duchess 
Anastasia,  to  whom  he  had  just  become  engaged.  In  the 
Crown  Princess  Cecilie,  I  recognised  again  all  the  fine 
qualities  which  had  distinguished  the  heart  and  character 
of  her  dear  father.  I  saw,  also,  many  others  besides  him 
that  I  shall  mention  later. 

Soon  after  the  death  of  the  Queen  Dowager  Elisabeth, 
wife  of  Friedrich  Wilhelm  IV,  born  Princess  of  Bavaria,  a 
kind  of  memorial  service,  in  the  form  of  a  religious  concert, 
took  place  in  the  Elisabeth  room  of  the  royal  palace.  Only 
a  few  classical  numbers  were  given.  Frau  Mallinger,  and 
I,  Niemann,  and  Betz,  sang  the  Benedictus  from  Mozart's 
"Requiem."  Every  one  was  dressed  in  black,  and  arrived 
especially  early.  The  favourite  of  us  all,  Princess  Friedrich 
Karl,  came  up  to  us  two  ladies  and  told  us  many  things,  both 
sad  and  merry. 

I  had  already  heard  from  other  sources  how  strictly 
the  young  Princesses  were  treated,  that  they  were  not  per- 
mitted ever  to  arrange  their  hair  as  they  chose,  that  they 
could  not  receive  any  one,  and  that  even  a  friendly  greeting 
was  sometimes  frowned  on.  It  was  so  with  the  Crown 
Princess  also.  Her  cordial  manner,  her  open  character, 
and  friendly,  simple  way  of  "giving  herself, "  were  incessantly 
rebuked,  until  she  became  embittered  and  retired  into  herself. 

After  the  concert — we  were  already  seated  at  supper — 
Moltke  approached  me  with  a  glass  of  champagne,  to  do 
honour  with  me  to  Mozart,  and  to  thank  him  and  me  for  my 
Mozart  parts.  It  was  the  only  time  that  I  ever  spoke  to  the 


Berlin,  1870-1875  169 

great  "Silent  Man,"  as  he  no  longer  attended  the  other 
festivities.  But  I  saw  both  him  and  Bismarck  almost  daily, 
walking  in  the  Leipzigerstrasse,  during  the  time  Parliament 
was  sitting,  an  opportunity  that  we  always  sought,  because 
one  could  never  tire  of  looking  at  the  two  figures. 

I  saw,  also,  the  eighty-eight  year  old  "Papa  Wrangel" 
every  day  during  my  walks  in  the  Tiergarten,  surrounded  by 
a  crowd  of  children,  to  whom  he  distributed  small  coins  and 
bonbons;  the  aged  General,  who  was  warned,  in  1848,  that 
his  wife  would  be  hanged,  in  case  he  thought  of  entering 
Berlin  with  his  soldiers.  He  did  enter,  however,  and  when 
he  was  there  he  is  said  to  have  smilingly  observed  in  the 
purest  Berlinese,  "I  wonder  if  they  will  hang  her."  Even 
if  it  be  only  a  story,  it  is  extremely  characteristic  of  "Papa 
Wrangel." 

Richard  Wagner  came  to  Berlin  in  February,  1873,  to 
conduct  a  concert  that  his  friends  had  arranged  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  Bayreuth  fund,  and  which  took  place  in  the  old  con- 
cert hall  in  the  Leipzigerstrasse.  Wagner  greeted  mamma 
and  me  most  cordially,  and  at  once  wrote  an  assignment 
of  tickets  for  us  on  his  visiting  card,  which  I  still  possess. 
At  the  rehearsal  we  stood  chatting  with  Wagner  near  Hertel, 
the  painter,  who  was  blond,  big,  and  well  formed.  Wagner 
clapped  him  confidentially  on  the  shoulder  with  the  remark: 
"You  will  have  to  sing  Siegfried  for  me!"  Hertel,  who  had 
only  just  met  Wagner,  declined  with  regret,  although  flattered, 
affording  much  amusement  to  those  standing  around.  The 
enthusiasm  of  the  very  select  audience  was  boundless.  Even 
then  it  was  Countess  Schleinitz,  nee  Freiin  von  Buch, — whose 
mother  married  Prince  Hatzfeldt  for  her  second  husband,  and 
who  was  a  true  friend  of  Liszt  and  Wagner, — who  exerted  all 
her  influence  of  name  and  position  to  break  a  way  into  the 
German  imperial  city  for  Wagner's  works.  She  was  ener- 
getically supported,  of  course,  by  the  like-minded,  but  with- 
out her  ideal  leadership,  her  indefatigable  zeal,  which  was 
already  breaking  ground  steadily,  and  which  was  to  overflow 


170  My  Path  Through  Life 

everything  with  all  the  more  force  only  a  few  years  later, 
the  cause  would  certainly  have  still  been  long  retarded. 

All  the  leading  spirits  in  art,  science,  and  literature  met 
at  the  home  of  Count  Schleinitz.  A  few  families  of  the 
aristocracy  who  loved  and  understood  art  completed  the 
circle,  frequently  very  small,  that  formed  itself  around  Liszt, 
Hans  von  Billow,  Helmholtz,  Adolf  Menzel,  Gustav  Richter, 
Taussig,  Rubinstein,  Karl  Klindworth,  C.  Eckert,  Albert 
Niemann,  etc.,  to  which  Scholz  and  Dohm,  the  two  men 
from  Kladderadatsch,  also  belonged.  (David  Kalisch,  the 
founder  of  the  paper,  had  just  died.)  Princess  Hatzfeld, 
Princess  Carolath,  the  sister  of  the  hostess,  Prince  and  Prin- 
cess Franz  and  Hedwig  Liechtenstein,  Count  and  Countess 
Usedom,  with  their  daughter,  Hildegard,  who  was  called 
the  "  Usecathedrale,  "on  account  of  her  Valkyrie-like  figure, 
as  well  as  Count  Wolkenstein-Trostburg,  were  amongst  the 
constant  guests  of  this  peacefully  distinguished  house,  where 
there  was  laughter,  philosophy,  and  music  (the  Countess  was 
an  excellent  piano  virtuoso)  and  where  no  one  was  afraid  of 
being  bored. 

There  was  one  woman  in  particular,  whom  I  should  have 
been  most  glad  to  meet  in  life,  but  whom  I  could  not  see 
there  any  more,  as  she  died  about  1872,  before  I  began  to  go 
to  the  Count's  house.  Frau  von  Muchanoff  must  have  been 
a  wonderful  personality,  an  ideal  friend  of  many  great  artists, 
an  ideal  patron  of  art.  Perhaps  Countess  Schleinitz  was 
her  docile  pupil  who  held  aloft,  until  her  death  which  soon 
followed,  the  banner  of  idealism,  as  she  told  me  herself,  and 
thereby  kept  herself  eternally  young.  Perhaps  she  took  the 
sceptre  from  Frau  von  Muchanoff's  tired  hands,  only  in 
order  to  lead  farther  on  for  Wagner,  who  already  owed  so 
very  much  to  Frau  von  Muchanoff.  A  wonderful  picture, 
painted  by  Lenbach,  of  this  remarkable  woman  stood  in  the 
Countess's  salon,  spiritualised,  transparent,  I  might  almost 
say  incorporeal,  transfixed  by  him.  The  portrait  accom- 
panied Countess  Schleinitz  in  '76,  even  to  Bayreuth,  as 


Berlin,  1870-1885  171 

though  it,  too,  was  to  share  Wagner's  triumph  with  him. 
The  veneration  with  which  this  woman  was  regarded  on 
every  side,  and  is  still  thought  of,  bordered  on  worship.  I 
know  her  only  from  her  picture  and  her  letters  to  her 
daughter,  Frau  Coudenhoven,  but  I  think  that  one  could 
learn  nothing  of  her  more  beautiful  than  these  epistles,  which 
bring  the  wonderful  being  of  this  woman  into  most  exquisite 
harmony  with  Lenbach's  picture,  that  has  immortalised 
"one  who  was  never  known." 

Count  Schleinitz,  Minister  of  the  Household,  who  must 
have  been  more  than  thirty  years  the  senior  of  his  wife,  was 
an  extremely  agreeable  host.  He  was  not  a  Wagnerite  at 
the  bottom  of  his  heart,  but,  out  of  love  for  his  wife,  he 
lightly  pretended  to  be  one.  When  we  took  council  there 
how  Wagner  might  best  be  helped,  or  sketched  plans  for 
concerts,  or  made  preparations,  he  would  ask  what  his  part 
was  to  be,  how  he  could  assist,  and  so  the  office  of  violet  seller 
was  assigned  him.  Quite  ready  to  assume  the  mission,  he 
doubted,  at  the  same  time,  if  his  age  would  not  keep  him 
from  doing  a  good  business;  but  I  pointed  out  to  him  that 
such  an  amiable  "House  Minister"  and  Count  would  always 
have  an  attraction,  even  for  young  girls.  Everything,  how- 
ever, happened  otherwise  than  as  it  was  planned. 

I  spent  many  stimulating  evenings  with  Paul  Meyerheim, 
in  whose  pleasant  home  a  little  crowd  of  select  artists,  quite 
by  themselves,  might  give  the  reins  to  their  opinions,  taste, 
and  humour.  Mozart,  Beethoven,  Bach,  and  Haydn  were 
worshipped  there.  Meyerheim  played  the  cello,  Stock- 
hausen  and  I  sang,  and  others,  also,  contributed  richly  of 
what  they  possessed.  Stockhausen  once,  after  singing  him- 
self, invited  Angeli,  who  also  sang  very  well,  to  give  us 
something  for  the  general  good.  The  latter  replied:  "No, 
not  after  you;  just  fancy,  if  you  were  to  paint  after  me!" 
Angeli  had  the  laugh  on  his  side.  But  once  when  I  paid 
Angeli  a  visit  in  his  studio,  where  I  was  to  view  a  certain 
picture,  I  found  him  painting  on  a  portrait  of  Princess 


172  My  Path  Through  Life 

Friedrich  Karl,  and  he  permitted  me  to  make  a  stroke 
of  the  brush  on  a  pearl  in  her  necklace. 

XII 

Little  by  little,  I  was  admitted  to  all  the  court  circles, 
through  Frau  Artdt  and  the  many  court  concerts,  and  I  sang 
everywhere,  and  was  invited  to  all  their  "At  Homes"  by 
Prince  and  Princess  Anton  Radziwill,  as  well  as  by  Lord  and 
Lady  Ampthill.  Lord  Ampthill,  whom  we  had  known  al- 
ready as  Lord  Russell,  the  English  Ambassador,  was  an  ex- 
ceptionally dear,  simple  man,  with  whom  I  liked  to  talk 
alone,  when  he  would  tell  me  of  the  commencement  of 
his  student  period,  and  how  he,  as  the  second  son  of  a 
Lord,  had  to  get  along  in  the  most  modest  circumstances. 
Like  all  men  of  marked  inner  life,  he  had  always  remained 
simple  and  serious,  and  he  impressed  me  as  being  very  solid. 
His  lovely  wife,  as  beautiful  as  a  picture,  fluttered  brightly 
through  life,  happy  and  care-free,  until  his  death  taught  her 
to  know  the  sternness  of  facts. 

A  grand  soiree,  with  musical  treats,  took  place  annually 
at  Prince  and  Princess  Anton  Radziwill's  on  the  evening  before 
the  Emperor's  birthday,  at  which  Their  Majesties  and  the 
Crown  Prince  always  appeared,  and  where  it  was  most 
animated  and  very  agreeable.  Once,  as  I  was  sitting  next 
Countess  Perponcher,  the  Grand  Stewardess,  a  strikingly 
beautiful  and  rather  artificially  made-up  lady  entered  on  the 
arm  of  her  husband.  A  soft  "  oh  "  of  admiration  escaped  me. 
"Do  you  know  the  lady?"  Countess  Perponcher  asked  me. 
"Not  personally,"  I  replied,  but  I  recognised  in  her  imme- 
diately the  once-renowned  and  fascinating  dancer,  Friedberg, 
now  Countess  Westphalen,  whom  I  had  not  seen  for  fifteen 
years,  and  who  was  still  exceptionally  beautiful. 

I  also  met  Bill  Bismarck  there  later  on,  with  whom,  even 
then,  I  discussed  animatedly  the  protection  of  animals.  I 
begged  him  to  get  the  Prince  interested.  He  wrote  me 


Berlin,  1870-1875  173 

concerning  it  that  the  Prince,  his  father,  would  be  glad  to 
take  the  matter  up  if  he  had  time,  but,  as  he  never  did  any- 
thing by  halves,  he  must  decline,  as  his  affairs  would  not 
permit  it  at  present. 

I  met  there  Etelka  Gerster,  who,  arriving  with  many 
letters  of  introduction,  was  heard  in  Berlin,  and  indeed 
everywhere,  for  the  first  time,  when  she  did  not  conduct 
herself  at  all  like  a  beginner  as  far  as  Taubert  and  I  were 
concerned.  The  Countesses  Perponcher  and  Danckelmann 
and  Frau  von  Prillwitz,  three  sisters  who  were  very  promi- 
nent in  court  circles,  took  up  the  young  singer  very  cordially. 
She  soon  made  her  appearance  at  Kroll's  in  Sonnambula, 
and  was  showered  with  flowers  by  these  ladies,  who  per- 
suaded all  their  young  friends  to  contribute,  and  Etelka 
Gerster  was  "made."  She  had  a  very  lovely  voice,  to- 
gether with  much  charm,  and  sang  very  well. 

I  cannot  close  this  list  of  my  acquaintances  without  men- 
tioning one  of  the  most  amiable  personages  at  Court,  Countess 
Josephine  Seydewitz,  afterwards  Countess  Carl  Donhoff, 
lady-in-waiting  to  her  Royal  Highness,  Princess  Karl.  Her 
beauty,  wit,  and  cheerfulness  made  her  innumerable  enemies, 
who  would  gladly  have  worked  her  destruction,  which,  for- 
tunately, they  were  unable  to  accomplish.  She  often  sent 
me  invitations,  and  one  met  her,  besides,  almost  daily  at  all 
gatherings,  where  no  one  escaped  the  sting  of  her  wit.  Beau- 
tiful to  the  end,  she  died,  after  severe  suffering,  in  a  Breslau 
sanitarium,  and  "like  an  angel, "  as  her  nurse  told  me. 

XIII 

The  Duchess  of  Sagan,  with  her  charming  daughter, 
Dolly,  to  whom  I  gave  singing  lessons,  stood  closest  to  me  in 
this  circle.  The  Duke  had  personally  asked  me  to  do  this 
teaching,  and  the  Duchess  completely  spoiled  me.  Dolly 
was  a  very  gifted  and  diligent  pupil  until  she  married,  while 
still  almost  a  child,  Prince  Carl  Egon  von  Furstenberg,  who 


174  My  Path  Through  Life 

was  snatched  from  her  by  death  after  a  brief  union.  When 
I  arrived  for  her  lesson  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning — I 
could  not  give  any  other  hour  on  account  of  rehearsals — the 
Duchess  used  to  poke  her  lovely  head  out  of  her  room,  give 
me  her  hand,  and  with  a  hearty,  "Bonjour,  Mademoiselle 
Lehmann,  vous  allez  bien?"  disappear  again  until  the  lesson 
was  over.  I  often  had  to  remain  for  breakfast  if  my  time 
permitted,  and,  frequently,  if  we  sat  alone,  she  would  pour 
out  her  deeply  afflicted  heart  to  me,  while  tears  fell  from  her 
clear  blue  eyes.  But  she  could  be,  also,  very  witty  and  gay, 
and  I  owe  many  hours,  spiced  with  brains  and  humour,  to 
these  three  fine  and  affectionate  people. 

My  recollections  preserve  many  ever-memorable  moments 
relating  to  the  members  of  the  German  Imperial  House  from 
the  highest  downwards,  to  the  aristocracy,  and  to  very  many 
celebrated  persons.  They  were  well  acquainted,  as  they 
met  one  another  nearly  every  night  in  the  course  of  the  winter. 
But  how  few  there  were  whom  one  really  approached  more 
closely.  Life  flowed  past  them  without  a  pause.  Under  the 
everlasting  ban  of  conventional  duties  it  was  hardly  possible 
for  many  of  them  to  learn  to  know  a  personal  inner  life. 
I  was  often  drawn  to  some  individual,  from  whom  went  forth 
a  breath  of  the  soul  or  heart  that  was  sympathetic  to  me, 
but  who  quickly  or  timidly  retired  into  himself  as  though 
this  intimacy  neither  should  nor  could  be.  In  the  tumult  of 
pleasure  and  of  the  splendour  of  their  rank,  they  brushed 
against  the  upholders  of  art  without  becoming  conscious  of 
their  high  mission  and  of  their  souls.  His  art  charmed  them 
in  the  artist.  Both  afforded  them  entertainment  for  a  longer 
or  shorter  time,  and  that  was  the  only,  and  usually  the  loose 
band  that  held  them  together.  But  I  have  kept  a  faithful 
remembrance  of  many  belonging  to  this  circle. 

It  was  a  brilliant  time  for  the  young  girl ;  for  the  young 
artist  it  might  have  been  so  likewise  if  the  music  which  one 
was  compelled  to  perform  there  had  not  been  of  such  in- 
ferior quality.  I  often  returned  from  these  concerts  almost 


Berlin,  1870-1875  175 

in  tears,  and  lamented  to  my  mother,  "Mamma,  I  am 
ashamed  to  sing  such  wretched  stuff  before  people;  they  will 
think  that  I  can  do  nothing  better." 

XIV 

I  have  been  hurrying  ahead  with  my  narrative,  and  must 
return  from  the  present  to  the  past,  for  my  progress,  in 
reality,  was  not  quite  so  rapid  as  I  should  like  to  tell,  and, 
indeed,  many  periods  seemed  to  me  like  a  long  trial  of 
patience. 

During  the  winter,  Pollini,  as  he  did  annually,  played  a 
special  engagement  with  his  Italian  company,  consisting 
of  Frau  Art6t,  her  husband,  Mariano  de  Padilla,  the  tenor, 
Vidal,  and  others.  Verdi's  Maskenbatt,  was  announced  for 
their  debut,  and  the  wife  of  the  conductor,  Goula,  cele- 
brated for  her  great  beauty,  was  to  sing  the  Page.  Three 
days  before  the  first  performance  the  report  of  her  serious 
illness  came  from  Barcelona.  Pollini  at  once  turned  to  me 
with  the  query,  whether  I  could  learn  to  sing  the  role  of 
the  Page  in  the  scarcely  three  days  that  remained,  and  I 
consented. 

Although  I  did  not  speak  Italian  fluently,  I  was  accus- 
tomed to  sing  in  that  language,  and  was  taking  lessons  again 
in  Berlin  from  the  leader,  Pirani,  and  his  wife;  but  it  was  not 
an  easy  task,  as  I  had  sung  the  Page  in  Auber's  Masken- 
ball,  and  the  old  melodies  perpetually  asserted  themselves 
with  me  over  the  new.  On  the  third  evening,  however,  I 
sang  the  part  with  entire  success.  The  opera  was  repeated, 
and  we  also  took  it  to  Hamburg.  I  became  acquainted  with 
Goula,  an  eminent  conductor,  who  often  invited  me  to  go  to 
Spain,  and  whom,  unfortunately,  I  never  met  again,  as  I  was 
obliged  to  refuse  his  invitations.  To  learn  the  part  in  the 
Italian  language  in  three  days  was  a  wonderful  achievement, 
but  it  was  not  the  last  that  I  executed,  and  I  may  mention 
here  one  of  the  many. 


176  My  Path  Through  Life 

The  management  sent  to  me,  one  day  at  noon  in  the  year 
1875,  a  request  that  I  sing  Irma  that  night  in  Maurer  und 
Schlosser,  and  save  the  performance.  I  knew  the  opera  well ; 
I  had  sung  the  part  of  Henrietta  at  Dantzic,  but  I  had  never 
glanced  at  that  of  Irma.  I  consented,  on  condition  that  I 
should  learn  for  the  evening  only  what  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary. At  four  o'clock  I  had  got  to  the  end  of  the  duet  and 
finale,  both  of  them  almost  unknown  to  me,  and  which  are 
very  difficult,  and  through  the  first  aria  and  dialogue;  I 
wanted  to  omit  the  second  aria.  As  I  prepared  myself  to 
start  for  the  opera,  my  dear  mother  said  to  me:  "Lilli, 
it  is  a  pity  that  you  should  leave  out  the  second  aria;  it  is 
much  more  effective  than  the  first ;  I  always  preferred  to  sing 
it.  If  you  are  willing,  I  will  sing  it  over  and  over  again  for 
you,  and  you  can  learn  it  quickly."  No  sooner  said  than 
done.  Mamma  sang  it  for  me,  I  repeated  it  after  her,  and, 
at  five  oclock,  I  was  able  to  do  the  second  aria. 

The  conductor,  with  whom  I  ran  over  the  r61e  to  give  him 
my  tempi,  was  awaiting  me  at  the  opera-house,  and  then  I 
went  forth  to  battle.  The  excitement  that  had  possession  of 
me  was  fearful;  I  staggered  into  the  wings  almost  fainting 
after  the  first  scene.  I  now  see  clearly  for  the  first  time  what 
a  crime  it  is  to  expect  such  a  thing  of  any  one.  A  nervous 
breakdown  might  have  been  my  reward  for  being  obliging, 
and  who  would  have  compensated  me  for  my  health  and  a 
ruined  life?  I  felt  the  strain  in  my  limbs  for  many  days  and 
nights  and  could  scarcely  recuperate  from  it.  I  shall  be 
told  that  I  was  a  free  agent  and  no  compulsion  was  put 
upon  me.  That  is  true;  but  the  temptation  to  save  a 
performance  is  so  inborn  in  an  artist,  I  may  say,  that  she 
succumbs  as  soon  as  the  occasion  presents  itself. 

I  could  not  accomplish  in  Berlin  the  artistic  perfecting 
of  all  my  parts  as  I  had  dreamed  of  doing.  Most  of  the 
repertoire  operas,  even  those  in  which  I  sang  a  part  for  the 
first  time,  were  given  without  any  rehearsal,  and  more  time 
was  granted  one  only  for  the  preparation  of  entirely  unknown 


Berlin,  1870-1875  177 

works.  We  had  conscientious  artists,  of  course,  who  studied 
their  rdles  at  home  by  themselves,  came  to  rehearsal  with 
them  ready,  and  accommodated  one  another,  the  lesser 
fitting  in  with  the  greater.  I  did  the  same  for  the  latter, 
at  all  times  and  in  all  places,  more  than  did  any  of  the  others. 
But  for  those  of  the  second  or  third  class,  who  were  hardly 
artists,  and  most  of  whom  were  not  conscientious,  there  was 
scant  time.  They  sang  and  acted  as  well  or  as  ill  as  they 
desired  and  were  capable  of.  The  amount  of  poor  work  the 
conductor  and  manager  allowed  to  pass  by  was  often 
enough  to  make  one's  hair  rise  and  was  unworthy  of 
art. 

Things  went  on  somehow  under  Manager  Hein,  because 
he  could  direct  the  singers,  but  he  was  superficial,  and  at  the 
rehearsals  matters  were  topsy-turvy.  No  decorations  were 
ever  seen  at  the  rehearsals ;  the  whole  chorus,  whether  busy 
or  idle,  stood  on  the  stage  talking  loudly.  Sometimes  one 
was  driven  to  despair.  After  a  rehearsal  of  the  Fille  du 
Regiment,  that  I  was  to  sing  for  the  first  time,  when  condi- 
tions were  such  as  I  have  just  described,  I  protested  most 
earnestly  against  it,  but  it  did  me  no  good.  There  was 
not  much  improvement  under  Moritz  Ernst,  principally 
because  he  knew  far  less  than  his  predecessor. 

Then  followed  Ferdinand  von  Strantz,  the  successor  to 
Laube,  and  associate  of  Friedrich  Haase  at  Leipsic,  and 
matters  became  still  worse.  Strantz  had  been  originally  an 
officer,  then  a  singer,  next  an  actor,  and  was  now  operatic 
manager  i.e.,  Director  of  the  Royal  Opera.  He  had  many 
secondary  interests,  unfortunately;  he  speculated  in  houses, 
was  occupied  with  horses,  and  traded  both.  In  short,  he 
was  very  often  absorbed  by  his  own  affairs,  and  brought  to  his 
chief  occupation  only  a  languid  interest,  because  his  business 
in  houses  frequently  bothered  him.  The  rehearsals  became 
steadily  shorter  and  more  inadequate.  The  operettas  in 
which  I  was  engaged,  and  that  would  not  go  smoothly  as  late 
as  the  final  rehearsals,  I  took  upon  myself,  begging  my  col- 


178  My  Path  Through  Life 

leagues  to  remain  on  the  stage  after  the  rehearsals,  so  that  we 
might  better  plan  the  dialogue  and  positions. 

The  prompter  joined  us  willingly,  for  it  concerned  him, 
also,  that  everything  should  go  smoothly.  There  were  many 
who  did  nothing  at  home,  and  demanded  everything  from 
the  rehearsals  which  did  not  take  place.  The  indulgence 
shown  to  the  beginners  often  went  so  far  that  they  sang  their 
parts  from  the  score  even  at  the  final  rehearsals.  Such  a 
thing  would  not  be  possible  at  any  theatre,  and  should  have 
been  punished  with  instant  dismissal,  for  the  sake  of  justice 
and  of  art. 

I  asked  myself  constantly  what  would  have  been  done  at 
Prague  or  Leipsic  in  such  cases,  and  what  the  managers, 
Hassel  and  Seidl,  would  have  said.  It  was  possible  in  Berlin, 
and  often  practised  audaciously  by  incompetent  beginners. 

Now  and  then  I  played  the  part  of  the  police,  that  is, 
when  I  was  in  the  cast;  at  other  times  it  did  not  concern 
me.  Of  course,  to  this  kind  of  singer,  I  seemed  to  be  "jealous 
of  young  talents, "  and  was  thoroughly  detested.  But  I  had 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  the  success  of  many  of  our 
pretty  operettas  was  to  be  placed  to  my  credit,  not  on  ac- 
count of  myself,  but  because  of  my  untiring  interest  in  the 
whole,  in  the  work  of  art,  in  art  itself,  and  in  the  honour  of 
the  artist.  It  happened  to  me  once,  indeed,  that  one  of  these 
"artists"  actually  thanked  me  warmly,  after  her  marriage, 
for  my  admonitions,  and  was  properly  ashamed  of  her  un- 
worthy conduct.  This  kind  of  inartistic  work,  frivolous  and 
conscienceless,  with  which  one  often  has  to  count  and  to  work, 
hurts  me  more  in  my  love  for  art  than  I  can  express. 

One  had  to  find  compensation  for  this  in  all  those  per- 
formances engaging  artists  chiefly  of  the  first  rank,  and  those 
in  which  I  could  work  with  authority;  labouring  over  the 
careless  performers  on  my  own  responsibility,  even  ordering 
them  to  come  to  me  and  not  setting  them  free  again  until  they 
had  mastered  their  r61es  to  some  extent,  for  they  were 
entirely  lacking  in  diligence,  effort,  and  delight  in  their  work. 


Berlin,  1870-1875  179 

It  would  have  been  an  easy  and  a  blessed  task  if  I  had 
had  only  myself  to  deal  with,  and  could  have  added,  in  myself, 
proper  value  to  the  whole.  I  never  wished  to  work  other- 
wise than  with  loftier  spirits  and  greater  talents  than  my 
own;  not  that  I  might  depend  upon  them,  but  that  I  might 
fight  beside  them  in  the  struggle  for  the  ideal  of  our  art. 

XV 

We  had  left  my  sister  behind  in  the  guardianship  of  her 
future  family,  but  she  suddenly  abandoned  all  her  plans  of 
marrying,  as  her  love  for  art  had  returned.  She  may  have 
dreamed  that  circumstances  were  different  from  what  they 
actually  were,  and  with  quick  decision,  though  after  many 
struggles  and  much  delay,  she  accepted  an  engagement  at 
Hamburg,  in  the  autumn  of  1871.  Soon  afterwards,  our 
dear  old  friend,  Director  Behr,  took  her  to  Cologne  for  five 
years.  She  sang  in  Breslau  one  winter,  the  three  years 
following  in  Prague,  our  old  home,  and  went,  at  last,  to 
Vienna,  where  she  was  uninterruptedly  active  for  fourteen 
years  as  Imperial  and  Royal  Kammersangerin,  becoming  the 
favourite  of  the  musical  public,  which  has  not  forgotten  her. 

But  her  nerves  revolted  again,  and  worse  than  before, 
and  so,  impulsively  as  ever,  she  said  farewell  to  the  stage. 
She  ended  her  rich  career  much  too  soon,  and  in  full  posses- 
sion of  her  voice.  Mahler  wanted  intensely  to  win  her  back 
again  for  Vienna,  but  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to 
return  to  the  stage,  although  life  seemed  to  her  empty  and 
aimless  without  her  art. 

I  must  retrace  my  steps  here,  also.  Richard  Wagner 
invited  me,  in  the  year  1872,  to  sing  the  soprano  part  in  the 
Ninth  Symphony  at  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  the 
Wagner  Theatre  at  Bayreuth,  but  leave  of  absence  was 
refused  me.  I  then  suggested  to  Wagner  that  he  should 
engage  my  musical  sister  for  it,  and  she  performed  her  task 
to  his  satisfaction. 


i8o  My  Path  Through  Life 

I  still  deeply  regret  that  I  could  not  participate  in  the 
uplifting  ceremony  of  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone.  But  I 
knew,  also,  that  I  could  not  get  away  from  Berlin  just  at  that 
time,  and  should  not  murmur.  One  of  the  greatest  disap- 
pointments my  dear  mother  ever  had  was  Riezl's  refusal,  on 
quite  untenable  grounds,  of  the  repeated  offers  of  engage- 
ments that  Hiilsen  made  her,  for  she  had  thought  it  would  be 
the  crowning  joy  of  her  whole  life  to  see  us  both  united  on 
such  a  great  stage.  Subsequently,  it  made  her  very  happy 
indeed  to  know  that  Riezl  received  such  extraordinary  ap- 
preciation at  Vienna.  I  am  certain  that  my  sister  was  better 
suited  to  Vienna  than  to  serious  Germany,  for  there  her 
gaiety  and  careless  sociability  found  a  pleasant  soil  prepared 
for  them. 

In  the  course  of  the  fifteen  years  of  my  Berlin  engagement, 
my  sister  sang  for  me  very  often  at  the  Royal  Opera,  when 
she  was  on  a  visit  to  us,  and  I  was  away  filling  special  engage- 
ments, which  was  often  the  case  after  the  termination  of 
my  second  Berlin  contract.  It  was  a  pity  that  she  could  not 
have  sung  for  me  everywhere. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  seventies,  I  received  the  follow- 
ing telegram,  "Can  you  sing  Rosine  here  to-morrow? 
Schloss. "  Of  course  I  could.  I  never  hesitated  long  when  it 
was  a  question  of  being  on  the  spot.  I  did  not  lose  a  moment 
in  asking  von  Hulsen  for  leave  of  absence,  which  he  granted 
at  once.  I  got  my  costume,  telegraphed  to  Schloss  at 
Dresden  that  I  would  be  there,  and  started  thither  myself 
at  eight  o'clock  the  next  morning.  Amazed  that  no  rehearsal 
was  announced,  I  went  to  the  theatre,  and  learned,  to  my 
horror,  that  Schloss  had  not  been  at  Dresden  for  years,  but 
was  at  Hamburg,  and  probably  expected  me  there.  I  had 
not  heard  a  word  of  Schloss's  retirement ;  I  knew  him  only  at 
Dresden,  and  was  especially  terrified  by  the  fact  that  he  now 
vainly  awaited  me  in  Hamburg.  I  telegraphed  immediately, 
"Have  gone  to  Dresden  by  mistake,"  and  finally  quieted 
down,  as  I  could  not  change  matters. 


Marie  Lehmann 
From  a  steel  engraving  of  a  photo  by  Nach 


Berlin,  1870-1875  181 

To  help  myself  I  went  to  the  Gallery,  and  saw  the 
Sistine  Madonna  for  the  first  time,  or,  as  I  should  prefer 
to  say,  I  saw  a  picture  for  the  first  time.  Every  worry 
dropped  away  from  me  at  the  sight  of  it,  and  I  was  indifferent 
whether  they  had  a  Rosine  in  Hamburg  or  not;  I  saw  only 
this  picture,  which  worked  a  living  redemption  in  me,  and 
initiated  me  into  an  art,  which,  until  then,  I  had  never 
comprehended.  The  impression  was  as  lasting  as  the  Vor- 
spiel  to  Wagner's  Tristan,  although  the  two  are  so  funda- 
mentally different,  except  that  both  were  conceived  and 
created  by  genius.  It  seems  to  me  that  there  can  be  no 
higher  joy  than  to  be  able  to  feel  and  to  understand  this 
painting. 

XVI 

If  I  wanted  to  better  myself  it  was  time  to  give  notice, 
or  my  contract,  which,  after  the  third  year,  had  continued 
without  a  word  from  either  side,  would  run  on  under  the  old 
conditions.  I,  therefore,  sent  in  my  resignation  to  the  general 
management.  Hulsen  took  up  the  matter,  and  made  me 
two  propositions:  first,  a  contract  for  several  years,  with 
increased  salary,  or  a  contract  for  life  with  a  stipend  of  13,500 
marks,  unguaranteed  extra  money  of  forty-five  marks  for 
each  night  I  appeared,  and  a  right  to  a  pension,  according  to 
the  rules  for  royal  officials.  I  was  in  favour  of  the  higher 
salary  and  shorter  contract,  while  mamma  pleaded  for  the 
life  contract,  which  gave  her  the  consciousness  of  my  assured 
future.  But  the  terms  of  the  latter  seemed  to  me  too  little, 
even  for  the  conditions  of  that  time,  and,  especially,  for 
what  I  felt  in  myself,  and  for  what  I  always  intended  to 
obtain  ultimately.  Hulsen  did  not  agree  to  my  increased 
demands,  and  we  broke  off  the  negotiations. 

Now  came  the  tension  that  always  follows  between  two 
contracting  parties  that  cannot  get  together.  Neither  liked 
to  see  the  other,  and  tried  to  avoid  it.  Instead  of  calling  me 


1 82  My  Path  Through  Life 

the  "Pearl"  as  Hulsen  had  done  in  letters  when  I  had  been 
obliging,  had  substituted  for  others,  or  had  learned  some- 
thing overnight,  he  addressed  me  again  as  "Most  esteemed 
Fraulein. "  I  was  irritated  and  so  was  Hiilsen.  Even 
before  I  went  to  Berlin,  I  had  offers  from  Dresden  and 
Vienna, — the  head  manager,  Schloss,  had  been  to  see  me  in 
Leipsic  about  a  contract  for  Dresden, — but  I  did  not  want 
to  leave  Berlin,  where  I  was  established,  and  had  such 
brilliant  models.  My  dear  mother  was  very  depressed  over 
it,  and  I  could  not  cheer  her  up. 

One  day,  Hulsen  made  the  first  advance.  He  again 
urged  me  strenuously  to  sign  the  life  contract,  and,  although 
it  still  took  a  good  while  before  he  yielded  to  my  demand  for  a 
third  month's  leave  of  absence,  which  eventually  was  bought 
from  me  for  a  doubled  salary  and  doubled  "play"  money,  I 
finally  signed  it.  I  really  did  it  only  to  calm  my  dear  mother 
about  my  future ;  I  could  not  delude  myself  for  a  moment  as 
to  the  consequences  of  this  contract.  I  knew  only  too  well 
that,  by  affixing  my  signature,  I  had  sealed  myself  for  the 
lot  of  a  royal  functionary ;  that  I  should  never  succeed  in  my 
career  in  reaching  the  heights,  which,  I  knew,  were  my  proper 
goal;  that  I  should  be  considered  by  von  Hulsen  henceforth 
as  a  useful  person;  and  that  he  would  never  support  me  in 
my  artistic  ambitions.  Future  events  confirmed  my  fears. 

XVII 

Now  that  it  was  settled  that  I  was  to  remain,  my  first 
thought  was  to  procure  myself  a  good  grand  piano.  I  did 
not  wish  to  touch  my  little  savings,  so  I  asked  for  an  advance 
payment,  that  was  refused  me  unless  I  brought  in  "proofs 
of  poverty."  I  declined,  but  bought  the  Bechstein  piano, 
nevertheless,  which,  however,  would  not  go  over  our  narrow 
house  stairs,  and,  as  it  was  also  impossible  to  get  it  through 
the  window,  it  had  to  be  returned  to  the  warehouse.  After 
that  I  could  not  endure  the  uncomfortable  apartment  any 
longer,  and  we  went  out  to  find  a  better  one. 


Berlin,  1870-1875  183 

XVIII 

Mamma  had  gone  to  Marienbad  for  a  cure,  and  my  sister 
was  with  me.  The  apartment  problem  had  to  be  finally 
settled.  Mother  had  looked  at  a  suitable  place  at  No.  19 
Leipziger  Platz,  and  had  recommended  it  to  me,  but,  as  I 
saw  the  mansard  window  from  below,  which  looked  towards 
the  Potsdamer  Platz,  I  refused  to  go  up,  and  said  haughtily, 
"Ten  horses  could  not  get  me  through  those  windows." 
We  had  looked  at  an  apartment  in  Charlottenstrasse,  one 
day,  which  I  had  intended  to  rent,  when  chance  led  us  by 
the  Leipziger  Platz,  and  I  recalled  apartment  No.  19.  The 
sign  was  still  hanging  out,  and,  being  in  a  better  humour,  I 
resolved  to  ascend  to  the  third  floor.  Such  a  flood  of  sun- 
shine, light,  and  warmth  met  me  in  the  small,  newly  furnished 
mansard  rooms,  to  which  a  single  large  "tower  room" 
served  as  a  sign-board,  that  I  took  it,  undisturbed  by  all 
minor  considerations  and  the  high  rent,  and  kept  it  for 
seventeen  years. 

"The  Golden  Sun"  at  Leipsic,  where  the  wind  could  blow 
so  icily,  had  left  me  a  very  disagreeable  memory.  For  a 
long  time  I  had  been  pinched  and  twitched  and  pulled  in  my 
hands,  feet,  arms,  legs,  head,  and  shoulders,  and  pains  jumped 
incessantly  here  and  there,  and  increased  until  they  were 
unbearable.  I  was  compelled  to  go  to  Wiesbaden,  in  search 
of  a  cure  for  my  shooting  rheumatism  and  my  sufferings,  and 
mamma  and  I  found  a  quiet  apartment  and  excellent  service 
at  the  Hotel  Adler,  during  my  leave  of  absence. 

We  generally  stretched  ourselves  in  our  feather  beds 
about  half-past  eight,  and  rarely  went  to  the  theatre,  which 
was  excellent,  however,  and  where  we  found  Wilhelm  Jahn 
and  Gabriele  Szegal  again,  the  dramatic  singer  of  my  Prague 
period,  who  possessed  the  greatest  and  warmest  dramatic 
voice  that  I  can  recollect.  She  and  Marie  Wilt  were  the 
last  of  those  singers  who  sang  Constanze  in  the  Entfuhrung, 
besides  highly  dramatic  rdles,  and  she  could  also  sing  the 


1 84  My  Path  Through  Life 

Queen  of  the  Night.  Big  and  strong,  she  yet  seemed  to  be 
boneless  in  her  upper  extremities.  Whenever  she  raised  her 
hands  and  arms  she  dropped  them  limply  again  at  once; 
she  never  made  a  quiet  gesture  nor  brought  out  the  least 
expression  in  that  way,  and  it  was  not  much  better  with 
her  facial  muscles.  We  were  such  good  friends  that  we 
discussed  this  fact,  but  this  most  industrious  and  assiduous 
artist  could  not  succeed  in  concentrating  her  energy  on 
maintaining  the  positions  of  her  arms  and  hands.  I  men- 
tion this,  because  similar  inability  has  never  come  to  my 
notice  before  or  after  in  my  life. 

At  the  table  d'hote  at  our  hotel,  over  which  General  von 
Schlichting  presided,  we  met  Schwabe,  the  Manchester 
merchant,  who  soon  moved  to  Berlin,  and  with  whose 
family,  exceptionally  cultured  people  of  fine  sensibilities, 
I  became  very  intimate.  I  met  in  the  lively  circle  at  their 
house,  Rubinstein,  Adolf  Menzel,  Ernst  von  Wildenbruch, 
and  the  son  of  Karl  Maria  von  Weber,  whose  daughter, 
Maria,  was  chosen  by  Ernst  von  Wildenbruch  to  be  his 
strong  companion  for  life. 

I  also  became  acquainted  with  Bodenstedt,  at  Wiesba- 
den, who  was  often  a  sharer  in  our  walks,  but  who  could  not 
win  my  sympathy  in  spite  of  his  charming  Mirza  Schaffy; 
a  result  that  was  only  renewed  by  his  Berlin  visits. 

The  cure  agreed  with  us  wonderfully.  Mother  and  I 
had  never  granted  ourselves  the  complete  rest  which  we  had 
both  needed  for  a  long  time.  The  regular  life,  the  beautiful 
retreat,  the  early  hours  rested  my  nerves  and  tired  body. 
The  rheumatic  pains,  indeed,  increased  as  they  always  do 
after  every  hot  water  cure,  but  I  got  over  them  entirely  after 
a  year,  and  they  never  returned. 

Before  I  left  Wiesbaden  I  sang  at  a  concert,  and,  two 
days  later,  the  Queen  in  the  Hugenotten  at  Jahn's  benefit. 

I  was  delighted  to  be  able  to  oblige  Jahn,  who  had  known 
us  as  children,  and  who  had  always  been  very  nice  to  mamma. 
Fraulein  Szegal  lent  me  her  dresses,  that  had  to  be  all  taken 


Berlin,  1870-1875  185 

in  in  the  waists,  as  I  was  still  exceedingly  slender;  but  it 
was  not  prejudicial  to  the  success  of  the  evening,  which  made 
me  a  little  proud,  as  did  every  success. 


XIX 


How  sunny  it  was  in  our  new  apartment!  Though  not 
much  larger,  it  was  more  elegant  than  the  old,  and  one  over- 
looked gardens  and  blooming  trees  on  every  side.  They  were 
the  splendid  old  lindens  of  the  Leipziger  Platz,  one  of  which 
caught  the  first  sunbeam  from  the  east,  and  therefore  was 
out  at  least  a  week  ahead  of  all  the  others.  When  their 
whole  tender,  transparent  tissue  of  leaves  had  unfolded, 
and  the  black  branches  and  twigs  still  shimmered  through, 
they  looked  like  the  light  green  veil  of  unembodied  elves 
from  old  fairy  tales.  Each  spring  the  ancient  miracle 
became  new,  and  was  more  glorious  and  more  full  of 
sentiment. 

The  small  Tiergarten  Hotel  stood  opposite  our  windows 
that  looked  towards  the  Potsdamer  Platz,  and  it  had  a  bloom- 
ing corner  that  was  bewitched,  for  in  it,  month  after  month, 
there  was  something  new  and  blossoming  to  look  at  every 
day.  It  gave  one  a  feeling  of  ownership,  or  of  a  precious 
memory  that  might  not  be  shared  with  another  person,  from 
fear  that  it  might  be  held  less  sacred  or  be  less  loved. 

And  the  old  chestnut  trees  of  peaceful  Bellevue-  and 
Potsdamerstrasse!  Could  it  be  otherwise  than  light  where 
so  many  tapers  shone? 

Near  the  centre  of  the  Platz,  or  Circle,  stood  the  small, 
ramshackle  "Comode,"  called  the  Ring  Drug  Shop,  or 
which,  on  account  of  the  bad  medicaments,  had  been  baptised 
by  the  Berliners,  the  "Poison  Drug  Store"  and  from  whose 
little  first-floor  balcony  waved,  on  every  patriotic  occasion, 
two  miserable  tiny  black  and  white  flags.  A  railroad  track 
ran  the  full  length  of  the  Koniggratzerstrasse,  on  which 
freight  trains  were  pushed  or  driven,  to  the  ringing  of  bells, 


i86  My  Path  Through  Life 

from  one  pole  of  the  great  city  to  the  other.  There  was  not 
much  of  anything  that  did  not  drive,  ride,  or  pass  by  our 
house.  There  took  place  the  journeys  of  the  entire  court 
back  and  forth  to  Potsdam,  and  also  all  receptions.  The 
first  of  the  latter  that  we  saw  was  the  arrival  of  the  Shah 
of  Persia.  Regiments  passed,  with  resounding  music,  on 
their  way  to  parade  or  drill  at  Tempelhofer  Feld,  and  mamma 
always  spoke  of  their  uniforms  as  "masquerade."  Then 
there  was  the  Tiergarten,  in  which  one  then  might  walk  alone 
without  thought  or  fear  of  robbery  and  murder.  And  the 
Zoological  Garden,  where  every  animal  knew  us,  and  expressed 
his  pleasure  at  our  coming !  Berlin  was  still  a  little  great  city  in 
those  days,  and  the  Berliners  were  a  fundamentally  sociable 
people,  who  are  now  to  be  found  in  few  originals,  and  who 
have  long  been  dying  out.  Yes,  indeed,  memory  is  a  para- 
dise, in  which  happiness,  gratitude,  and  contentment  keep 
their  favourite  abode  for  a  lifetime. 

When  the  Uhlans  (Lancers)  in  '76,  after  Bayreuth,  blew 
their  bugles  so  beautifully  on  Potsdamer  Platz,  we  knew  that 
it  was  our  Major,  then  young,  now  our  dear  true  old  friend, 
His  Excellency,  General  Oscar  von  Rabe,  who,  riding  at  the 
head  of  his  regiment,  had  ordered  it  to  play  so  finely  for  us, 
and  we  returned  our  grateful  thanks  by  bowing  down  from 
the  high  balcony.  We  did  not  have  a  balcony,  really,  but 
a  roof  garden,  where  we  seemed  to  ourselves  like  Baronesses; 
sometimes,  again,  we  smiled  down  at  our  loyal  knight  from 
our  high  windows. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  seventies,  Oscar  von  Rabe  had 
been  adjutant  to  old  Wrangel,  and  had  faced  death  with  him 
and  his  wife,  which  did  not  prevent  the  Berliners  from  calling 
the  young  adjutant  the  "  Nursemaid. "  (Papa  Wrangel  was 
already  quite  childish.)  Oscar  von  Rabe  sang  very  well 
himself,  and  few  were  so  enthusiastic  over  the  opera  as  he. 
In  spite  of  his  idolatry  of  Mozart,  he  climbed  the  rounds 
of  the  Wagnerian  ladder  at  Bayreuth,  and,  like  all  musical 
enthusiasts,  he  was  to  be  found  wherever  there  was 


Berlin,  1870-1875  187 

promise  that  art  and  artists  would  perform  something 
great. 

Our  house,  where  now  rises  the  huge  Palace  Hotel,  was 
built  by  Heffter,  Obertribunalsrat,  who  occupied  the  first 
floor,  but  who  had  already  sold  the  building  to  Herr  Alwin 
Ball,  tenant  of  the  second  floor.  We  shared  the  third,  pro- 
visionally, with  a  widow  and  her  three  children,  until  later 
I  took  the  whole  story,  which  then  consisted  of  eight  rooms, 
etc.,  and  had  a  view  of  both  the  Potsdamer  and  Leip- 
ziger  Platz.  I  shall  tell  just  one  little  episode  character- 
istic of  the  Heffters,  with  whom  I  was  on  terms  of  close 
friendship. 

When  the  dear  old  Obertribunalsrat  died  at  the  age  of 
eighty-three,  I  stopped  singing,  but  I  was  obliged  to  practise 
on  the  third  day,  after  I  had  first  earnestly  begged  to  be 
excused  for  doing  so.  His  very  dear  wife  sent  me  word  to 
proceed,  as  her  beloved  husband  would  rejoice  in  his  coffin 
to  hear  me.  Happy,  healthy  humour  seasoned  the  life  of 
the  entire  big  family,  that  yet  had  much  trouble  to  bear. 
And  just  as  I  had  loved  and  honoured  the  grandparents,  so 
I  am  bound  to-day  to  the  grandchildren,  and  they  to  me,  in 
true  love  and  friendship. 

XX 

Before  we  went  to  stay  at  Selisberg,  in  the  summer  of 
1874, 1  had  studied  Schumann's  Genoveva  for  Hulsen,  after  a 
rather  exhausting  season,  as  he  wanted  to  produce  the  opera, 
but  wished  to  see  it  first  so  as  to  form  an  opinion  of  it. 
Wiesbaden,  where  he  usually  went  after  the  season,  seemed 
to  him  the  best  place  for  it.  So  there  I  first  sang  Susanne  in 
Figaro,  and,  immediately  afterward,  Genoveva,  with  only  a 
single  rehearsal.  I  had  taken  great  pains  with  it,  and  was 
rewarded  by  having  it  given  to  Frau  Mallinger  to  sing  at 
Berlin.  I  could  not  resolve  upon  a  repetition  of  it,  as  I 
longed  for  rest  and  freedom. 


1 88  My  Path  Through  Life 

We  got  to  Selisberg  the  end  of  June.  For  the  first  time 
I  saw  Switzerland,  and  her  fairest  jewel,  the  Lake  of  Lucerne. 
We  crossed  the  lake,  and  arrived  up  at  the  hotel  in  a 
thunderstorm.  But,  as  we  stepped  out  soon  after,  there  was 
a  rainbow  standing  above  the  Axenstein,  opposite  us,  as  it 
is  described  in  Schiller's  Tell,  when  the  men  took  their  vow 
at  Rutli,  really  Griitli,  below  Selisberg.  The  scene  stood 
before  our  eyes  like  a  miracle,  although  in  Tell,  as  one  knows, 
it  is  a  rainbow  made  by  the  moonbeams  which  is  described,  and 
that  I  did  not  see  until  fifteen  years  later,  also  in  Switzerland. 

We  met,  at  Selisberg,  Baron  von  Rommel  from  Cassel, 
who  had  a  lively  recollection  of  my  mother.  His  daughter 
was  an  excellent  harp  player,  with  whom  she  often  exchanged 
old  reminiscences.  We  found  a  very  agreeable  gathering  of 
people  besides.  One  day  two  young  men  arrived,  and,  in 
the  one  who  carried  a  violin  case,  I  recognised  our  old 
Leipsic  friend,  Wilhelm  Schwendemann,  subsequently  pro- 
fessor at  the  Wurzburg  Conservatory.  The  other  was  Dr. 
S ,  from  Berlin,  who  became  a  celebrated  throat  special- 
ist in  London.  They  were  off  on  a  lark  together,  and  planned 
to  surprise  us.  The  few  days  that  they  remained  up  there  we 

devoted  to  music.  Dr.  S played  the  piano  brilliantly, 

and  Schwendemann  was  a  remarkable  violinist.  We  hunted 
out  everything  that  could  be  sung  to  the  accompaniment  of 
the  two  instruments,  while  Selisberg  stood  on  its  head. 
Of  course  there  was  not  lacking  a  reason  for  a  charity  con- 
cert, which  was  arranged  in  the  morning  for  the  same  night, 
with  our  "kind  co-operation,"  and  which  produced  a  thou- 
sand francs  for  a  poor  consumptive  conductor.  The  real 
managers  of  the  concert  were  General  von  Voigts-Rhetz 
and  his  wife,  who  was  to  have  played  first  herself,  but  who 
backed  out,  and  the  famous  beauty,  Frau  von  Mutzenbecher, 
from  Wiesbaden,  whom  Emperor  Wilhelm  liked  to  look  at. 
After  the  two  travelling  "musicians"  had  taken  their  way 
down  to  the  valley,  it  became  quiet  and  contemplative  again 
at  our  hotel  and  on  the  mountain. 


Berlin,  1870-1875  189 

The  event  of  this  glorious  sojourn  was  a  letter  from 
Richard  Wagner  to  my  mother,  in  which  he  asked  if  we  two, 
Riezl  and  I,  could  assist  at  the  Bayreuth  Festival  perform- 
ances, as  he  wanted  fresh  young  children.  In  order  to 
discuss  matters  further,  he  would  be  glad  to  see  us  soon  at 
Bayreuth.  We  sent  him  a  most  jubilant  "Yes,"  and  pro- 
mised to  arrange  our  arrival  at  Bayreuth  for  the  beginning 
of  August. 

We  were  to  be  the  witnesses  of  a  terribly  sad  occurrence 
before  we  left  Selisberg.  The  humid  south  wind,  called  the 
"Form,"  began  to  blow,  and  held  all  the  guests  prisoners 
indoors  for  many  days.  Only  the  most  courageous,  amongst 
whom  I  may  count  myself,  braved  storm  and  rain,  and 
ranged  through  the  forests  across  the  mountains.  Messen- 
gers made  their  way  up  to  us  with  the  depressing  intelligence 
that  guests  could  neither  get  up  nor  down,  until  finally,  after 
a  week,  the  weather  prepared  to  change.  I  had  scarcely 
spied  a  tiny  fleck  of  blue  sky,  which  the  mist  immediately  hid 
again  in  jealous  fashion,  than  I  set  out,  accompanied  by  old 
Herr  von  Rommel,  to  walk  down  to  Weggis,  partly  to  get 
exercise,  partly  to  see  the  devastation.  There  were  dreadful 
scenes  even  on  the  way,  and  the  beautiful  paths  were  im- 
passable. Here  lay  splendid  trees  across  them;  there  great 
levels  of  soil  and  pasture  had  slid  down  to  the  depths,  and 
only  bare  rocks  were  visible  where  there  had  been  fertile 
meadows;  the  labour  of  many  years  was  totally  destroyed. 

At  the  sight  of  the  mournful  pictures  of  desolate  ruin 
I  felt  an  actual  sorrow,  which  is  a  thousandfold  more  intense 
to-day,  now  that  I  know  all  that  is  lost  in  hours  of  the  com- 
bined and  active  elementary  forces  of  destruction.  One 
cherishes  and  cares  for  every  little  flower  and  animal,  refrains 
from  picking  any  stalk  or  crushing  any  insect,  so  as  to 
preserve  them  for  Nature's  household,  and,  in  a  single  in- 
stant, the  raging  elements  reduce  myriads  of  living  beings, 
flowers,  and  trees  to  nothingness. 

All  the  places  on  the  lake  were  submerged,  and  com- 


190  My  Path  Through  Life 

munication  was  maintained  by  means  of  boats;  frightful 
harm  had  been  done.  Sadly  we  climbed  the  now  almost  track- 
less heights.  I  did  not  care  to  look  farther  into  what  seemed 
to  me  irreparable  calamity.  But  the  Swiss,  accustomed  to 
such  natural  events,  and  stronger  and  less  finely  strung, 
perhaps,  than  we  are,  required  only  a  few  days  to  clear  away 
everything;  and,  as  soon  as  the  water  had  subsided,  the 
last  traces  of  the  disaster  disappeared  rapidly.  It  still 
pained  me,  however,  long  after  we  had  turned  our  backs  on 
Selisberg,  overwhelmed  with  bunches  of  Alpine  violets, 
given  us  along  the  way  by  troops  of  grateful  people,  who 
meant  well.  But  even  then  this  superabundance  seemed 
vandalism  to  me — the  despoiling  of  Nature. 

If  you  flowers  pick,  be  modest, 

Carry  not  too  many  off, 

Take  a  couple,  leave  the  finest 

In  the  turf  and  on  the  stalk. 

Others  passing,  on  the  way,  love  them  also, 

And  they  too  would  have  their  share. 

JOHANN  TROJAN. 

XXI 

The  good  sun  had  taken  care  to  point  out  to  me  friendly 
little  places  everywhere.  How  modestly,  cheaply,  and  well 
did  one  live  in  those  days  at  the  dear  Bayreuth  "Sonne. " 
With  the  exception  of  the  permanent  guest,  Captain  von 
Schrenck,  a  friend  of  Wagner,  who  introduced  himself  to 
us  at  once,  mamma  and  I  were  the  sole  guests  of  the  hotel. 
Host  and  hostess  shared  with  us  the  excellent  dinner  that 
consisted  of  soup,  beef  with  horse-radish,  and  a  pudding,  and 
cost  sixty  "pfennige"  a  person. 

We  went  to  see  Wagner  in  the  afternoon.  We  stood 
in  front  of  "Wahnfried,"  and  read  the  much-ridiculed 
inscription  on  the  house: 


Berlin,   1870-1875  191 

Dere,  nig  illusions  tounO  rest, 
so  f  bave  named  tbis  bouse  "  TKHabnfrfeD," 

a  strange  saying  that  one  has  to  grow  into. 

Wagner  received  us  like  dear  old  friends,  and  such  he 
actually  did  have  before  him, — at  least  in  the  person  of  my 
mother.  After  we  had  met  Frau  Cosima,  also,  who  greeted 
us  most  graciously,  and  Wagner  had  instructed  us  somewhat 
as  to  his  views,  he  opened  the  score  of  Rheingold,  and 
played  and  sang  the  first  scene  for  us.  Scarcely  had  we 
heard  a  few  measures  than,  charmed  by  the  melodious  sounds 
of  the  harmonies,  I  felt  myself  impelled  to  sing  Woglinde's 
part  at  sight.  I  saw  the  scene  before  me,  and  grasped  the 
perfect  serenity  and  audacity  of  the  three  maidens.  I  felt 
with  delight,  like  a  happiness  I  had  long  been  craving,  that 
I  should  be  able  to  give  Wagner  something  that  he  had  a  right 
to  hope  for,  namely,  pleasure  in,  love  and  understanding  for 
his  great  work. 

At  once,  upon  hearing  the  first  measures,  I  had  seized  the 
r61es  mentally,  and  I  said  to  Wagner  when  we  had  finished 
the  scene:  "I  shall  sing  Woglinde,  my  sister,  Wellgunde, 
Fraulein  Lammert,  Flosshilde;  you  do  not  need  to  trouble 
yourself  any  more  about  the  three,  dear  Herr  Wagner. "  I 
took  for  granted  that  Hulsen  would  not  refuse  us  the  neces- 
sary leave  of  absence  for  the  rehearsals  of  1875  and  the 
performances  of  1876. 

Wagner's  large  library,  reception,  and  writing-room, 
which  was  reached  by  a  hall  in  which  busts  were  placed, 
roused  my  liveliest  interest.  It  was  a  large,  square  room, 
with  a  bay  window  opposite  the  entrance,  and  thence  outside 
steps  led  into  the  lovely  garden,  that  seemed  still  larger  than 
it  was  because  it  adjoined  the  royal  garden,  to  which  Wagner 
had  access.  There  were  shelves  around  the  walls  full  of 
costly  books  in  costly  bindings.  Above  them  were  oil 
paintings  of  King  Ludwig  and  Countess  d'Agoult,  Frau 
Cosima's  mother,  known  as  a  writer  under  the  pseudonym 
of  "  Daniel  Stern. "  To  the  left  of  the  entrance  was  a  picture 


192  My  Path  Through  Life 

of  Schopenhauer,  in  front  of  Wagner's  large  writing-table; 
to  the  right  was  the  grand  piano,  and  busts  of  Wilhelmine 
Schroder-Devrient,  whom  Wagner  so  highly  revered.  Be- 
tween the  bookshelves  and  long  tables,  where  lay  many 
souvenirs  on  gorgeous  stuffs,  stood  comfortable  chairs  and 
arm-chairs  of  every  style  and  period,  that  were  distributed 
all  through  the  room.  From  the  outside  steps,  one  looked 
across  the  turf  to  a  marble  slab,  shaded  by  shrubs,  the  future 
resting-place  of  Richard  Wagner. 

We  saw,  also,  the  four  daughters  and  the  small,  quiet 
Siegfried,  scarcely  four  years  old,  who  dug  and  planted  in 
his  little  garden.  Each  of  the  children  had  a  small  plot  of 
ground,  where  he  or  she  might  practise  gardening.  Two 
huge  St.  Bernards,  Marke  and  Brangane,  and  several  terriers 
were  running  about  the  court,  for  Wagner  was  a  great  friend 
of  animals.  We  stayed  to  a  meal  with  the  Wagners,  during 
which  he  talked  much  about  vegetarianism  that  he  wanted  to 
adopt  entirely,  but  his  physician  was  opposed  to  it.  After 
what  I  know  of  it  to-day  from  my  own  experience,  I  am 
certain  that  Wagner,  without  going  to  the  extremes  of  vege- 
tarianism, would  have  found  it  a  means  of  lengthening  his 
life. 

The  next  day  we  travelled  back  to  Berlin,  and  our 
holidays  were  over. 

Both  my  sister  and  our  youngest  contralto,  Minna 
Lammert,  had  now  to  be  secured  for  the  Rhine  maidens, 
which  they  were  overjoyed  to  take  up.  Minna  Lammert,  like 
my  sister,  was  musical  to  the  core,  had  a  velvety  voice, 
that  promised  to  give  a  beautiful  background  to  our  two  high 
soprano  voices,  and  possessed  a  remarkably  bright  tempera- 
ment, to  which  she  occasionally  and  audaciously  gave  full 
rein.  That  was  what  I  wanted  for  the  Rhine  maidens. 
Accustomed  to  order,  and  weighing  every  contingency,  I 
obtained  from  Hiilsen  leave  of  absence  for  us  for  the  rehearsal 
of  1875,  as  well  as  for  the  rehearsals  and  performance  of  1876, 
which  he  granted  readily,  although  at  that  time  he  most 


Berlin,    1870-1875  193 

certainly  was  not  a  "  Wagnerite."  Soon  afterward  our  parts 
for  Rheingold  arrived  from  the  "Nibelungen  chancery,"  as 
the  work-  and  living-rooms  at  Bayreuth  of  Anton  Seidl,  the 
junior  conductor,  Felix  Mottl,  Franz  Fischer,  and  others 
were  called.  As  my  sister  was  staying  with  me  for  a  long 
time  just  then,  we  could  begin  to  study  at  once. 

The  Rheingold  we  quickly  made  our  own.  It  already 
sounded  very  well,  and  inspired  in  us  all  a  feeling  of  hap- 
piness, of  which  we  soon  became  conscious.  It  was  other- 
wise with  the  Gotterddmmerung,  when  the  parts  reached 
my  hands  much  later,  for  they  were  written  in  very  small 
characters,  were  hard  to  make  out,  and  I  had  to  rack  my 
brains  over  them.  I  can  still  recall  how  I  brooded  over  them ; 
always  coming  to  the  same  conclusion — that  they  must  have 
been  wrongly  copied.  But  then,  when  the  printed  parts 
made  the  harmonies  clear,  and  proved  that  it  should  sound 
that  way,  it  had  to  and  did  sound  so.  With  clarity  came 
pleasure  and  enjoyment  of  the  beauties  of  the  work,  which 
revealed  themselves  more  powerfully  to  us  every  day  and 
hour,  and  caused  us  to  develop  slowly  to  the  stature  that  we 
had  to  attain. 

The  Walkure  was  added  to  Rheingold  and  the  Got- 
terddmmerung,  in  which  I  was  to  sing  Helmwiege,  my  sis- 
ter, Ortlinde,  and  Minna  Lammert,  Rossweisse,  and  for 
me,  too,  was  the  Forest  Bird  in  Siegfried."  I  desired  that 
everything  should  be  studied  and  finished  by  the  spring  of 
1875.  Although  it  was  Wagner's  great  wish,  I  could  not 
succeed,  unfortunately,  in  getting  his  niece,  Frau  Johanna 
Jachmann- Wagner  to  join  in  our  study  of  the  Walkure. 
She  was  often  ill  or  engaged  elsewhere,  and  we  were  forced 
to  confine  the  study  of  it  to  just  us  three.  But  what  were 
all  the  difficulties  of  these  parts  as  compared  with  the  single 
passage  in  the  Gotterddmmerung : 

So  weise  und  stark  verwahnt  sich  der  Held 
Als  gebunden  und  blind  er  doch  ist! 


194  My  Path  Through  Life 

That  seemed  insuperable  then,  but  it  had  to  be 
surmounted  and  it  was. 

XXII 

If  I  was  to  see  my  programme  carried  out,  we  should  have 
to  be  extremely  diligent.  The  winter  brought  me  much 
labour  due  to  incessant  rehearsals  for  new  productions,  and 
the  old  repertoire  had  to  be  kept  up  also.  After  I  had  already 
sung  the  First  Witch  in  Taubert's  Macbeth,  at  which  I  worked 
with  real  creative  pleasure,  I  impersonated,  also,  Maria  in 
his  Cesario  (after  Shakespeare's  Twelfth  Night}.  This 
charming  r61e,  which  I  filled  to  the  best  of  my  ability, 
endowing  it  with  abundance  of  life  and  audacity,  brought 
me  the  first  and  only  punishment  at  the  "blackboard"  in 
the  social  room,  costing  me  three  marks ! 

In  the  scene  of  the  serenade  in  the  second  act,  where 
Maria,  in  order  to  tease  Malvolio,  appears  at  the  window  in 
her  mistress's  clothes,  and  throws  him  a  rose  that  she  carries, 
I  had  had  an  enormous  flower  made  for  myself,  the  size  of  a 
lamp  shade,  and  came  out  with  it  only  at  the  last  moment. 
Of  course  the  audience  and  my  colleagues  laughed,  and  only 
Director  Ernst,  an  enemy  to  jokes,  was  furious.  After  a 
consultation  with  Hulsen,  who  had  laughed  immoderately 
himself,  the  fine  was  remitted,  and  the  placard  was  removed. 

Cesario  was  brought  out  in  November,  and  in  January, 
A-ing-fo-hi,  by  Wiirst.  On  April  zyth,  the  Maccabder,  by 
Anton  Rubinstein,  had  its  first  performance,  and  achieved 
a  great  and  lasting  success.  This  opera,  which  was  given 
on  only  a  few  stages  outside  of  Berlin,  and  was  quickly 
banished  again,  owed  its  continuing  success  to  the  excellent 
individual  impersonations  of  all  the  principal  parts.  Mari- 
anne Brandt,  as  Leah,  was  unapproachable.  She  had  fought 
actively,  indeed,  against  taking  the  alto  part,  a  whim  which 
got  her  continually  into  struggles  with  herself,  had  made 
fearful  scenes  during  the  rehearsals,  had  insisted  with  tears 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Noemi  in  Maccabaer 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin,  taken  in  1878 


Berlin,  1870-1875  195 

and  loud  complaints  that  "this  role  is  a  nail  in  my  coffin," 
and  then  she  sang  the  part  more  than  fifty  times  without 
dying  of  it.  Anton  Rubinstein  had  her  to  thank,  chiefly, 
for  the  triumph,  as  she  imbued  her  part  with  complete 
artistic  abandon  and  expended  all  her  powers  on  it.  Betz 
was  thoroughly  manly  as  Judah,  though  he  was  not  a  passion- 
ate hero.  The  management  had,  assuredly,  not  deemed  the 
r61e  of  Noemi  of  much  importance,  or  it  would  not  have  been 
assigned  to  me.  But  I  saw  at  once  how  charmingly  the  fig- 
ure of  the  "Rose  of  Sharon' '  was  sustained,  how  she  could  give 
almost  dumb  expression  to  her  sorrow  for  her  father,  mur- 
dered by  her  own  husband,  and  in  the  end  would  be  capable 
of  developing  into  a  heroine.  From  that  moment  I  had  a 
dramatic  piece  of  work,  such  as  I  had  longed  for  since  child- 
hood, when  I  studied  with  Frau  Binder  at  Prague;  whom  I 
begged  even  then,  weak  as  I  was,  to  permit  me  to  learn 
something  dramatic.  I  see  from  old  letters  that  mamma 
observed  in  me,  quite  early,  the  indications  of  a  fitness  for 
dramatic  expression,  but  she  did  not  speak  of  it  to  me.  This 
fills  me  with  great  satisfaction  to-day,  though  mamma, 
unhappily,  did  not  live  to  witness  my  dramatic  career. 

Thenceforth  I  shut  myself  up,  did  not  let  any  one  or 
anything  disturb  me  at  my  studies,  rebuffed  my  friends,  and 
worked  as  one  should  work,  that  is,  I  lived  only  for  my  studies 
and  my  art.  Therefore  the  role  of  Noemi  was  the  special 
occurrence  that  thrust  me  into  a  new  epoch  in  my  artistic 
life.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  I  had  not  taken  the  same 
minute  pains  with  each  and  every  little  task,  or  had  worked 
them  out  less  well.  But  in  this  little  part  of  Noemi  lay  a 
trace  of  greatness.  The  figure  developed,  or  could  develop 
in  the  course  of  the  work.  My  ambition  had  long  craved 
such  a  task,  and  only  that  could  rouse  and  satisfy  me.  The 
success  I  had  justified  me  and  my  desires,  and  gave  them 
new  sustenance. 

Charlotte  Grossi,  as  Cleopatra,  was  beautiful  as  a  picture, 
and  Heinrich  Ernst  was  a  fiery  Eleazar.  Carl  Eckert  con- 


196  My  Path  Through  Life 

ducted  the  rehearsals,  but  Rubinstein  was  to  lead  at  the 
first  performance.  The  "dear  Lion,"  however,  had  neither 
theatrical  nor  operatic  routine,  so,  after  many  calamities 
and  much  profitless  parleying  back  and  forth,  the  Lion 
passed  his  sceptre  over  to  Carl  Eckert,  who  had  stronger  con- 
trol, and  in  whose  hands  the  work  was  much  safer  than  in  his. 

The  dear  Lion,  Anton  Rubinstein!  His  goodness  of 
heart  and  modesty  can  be  compared  only  with  Franz  Liszt's 
splendid  qualities.  The  grandeur  and  delicacy  of  his  play- 
ing were  incomparable.  I  loved  him  and  honoured  him  with 
my  whole  heart — both  him  and  his  dear  wife,  Wera.  He,  too, 
to  the  end  of  his  life  felt  loyal  friendship  for  his  first  Noemi. 
How  kind  he  always  was  to  me,  how  happy,  when  we  had 
music  together  in  this  place  or  that.  At  one  of  the  very 
luxurious  soirees  at  the  home  of  Professor  Gustav  Richter 
and  his  handsome  wife,  Cornelia,  nee  Meyerbeer,  he  once 
accompanied  me  in  some  of  his  songs.  The  accompaniment 
for  the  song,  "Wenn  ich  kommen  Dich  seh,"  sounded  like 
flames  that  were  lashed  by  the  storm  of  wild  passion,  and  I 
could  scarcely  follow.  When  the  song  was  finished,  we 
were  both  breathless,  but  the  piece  had  set  us  on  fire.  He 
laughed  at  me  on  account  of  his  mad  tempo,  and  we  were 
both  happy  over  our  success,  that  is,  I  was  glad  only  because 
the  dear  Lion  was  satisfied  with  me. 

He  took  me  with  him  once  to  see  Adolf  Menzel,  who,  that 
day,  showed  his  forge  in  his  own  atelier  (in  the  Potsdamer- 
strasse)  to  his  closest  friends.  As  we  sat  in  the  carriage  after 
the  rehearsal,  we  discussed  the  Bayreuth  of  the  future. 
Free  from  envy,  yet  certainly  cherishing  the  gentle  wish 
that  he,  too,  might  find  something  of  the  kind  for  himself, 
the  Lion  was  sceptical  of  its  success,  or  believed  at  most  in 
a  single  passing  performance.  At  the  same  time  he  told  me 
about  his  Christus,  of  which  he  had  great  hopes,  but  which, 
I  think,  was  produced,  in  Germany,  only  at  Bremen  in  1895. 

After  Bayreuth,  I  often  met  the  dear  Lion  at  Countess 
Schleinitz's.  Each  time  he  had  played  a  tremendous  concert 


Berlin,   1870-1875  197 

programme  the  same  evening  before  coming,  and  he  arrived 
at  the  palace  of  the  Hausminister  totally  exhausted,  smoking 
cigarettes,  and  with  his  linen  and  clothing  wet  through. 
When  I  entreated  him  to  give  himself  a  little  rest,  he  replied 
in  his  frank,  unconstrained  way:  "Yes,  Lilli,  you  are  well 
placed,  you  have  an  assured  salary;  but,  if  I  want  to  buy  the 
most  necessary  article,  I  am  obliged  to  give  a  concert." 
Poor  man,  how  many  abused  his  talents  and  kindness. 
A  few  months  before  his  death  we  met  each  other  by  chance, 
at  the  Nordwest  station  at  Vienna,  and  we  had  been  on  the 
same  train  without  knowing  it.  From  fear  of  annoying  him, 
I  meant  to  pass  by  without  recognition,  but  I  had  not  the 
heart  to  do  it.  Walking  up  to  him  courageously,  I  greeted 
him  cordially.  It  took  some  time  for  him  to  recognise  me ; 
he  had  trouble  with  his  eyes,  and  now  could  see  only  very 
poorly.  Then  his  face  lighted  up,  he  stroked  my  hair  tend- 
erly, and  said  in  his  dear,  veiled  voice  almost  sadly,  slowly, 
and  gently  as  though  he  did  not  want  to  hurt  me,  "Lilli, 
you  have  grown  quite  grey."  "I  have  been  so  for  a  long 
time!  We  have  not  seen  each  other  for  such  a  while! 
But  you  have  become  so,  too,  dear  friend!"  "Yes,  I,  of 
course;  but  you,  my  Noemi!"  We  exchanged  only  a 
few  words  more.  He  wanted  to  go  on  farther,  to  Russia, 
that  night.  I  never  saw  Anton  Rubinstein  again. 


Bayreuth 

June- July-August,  1875 
June- July-August,  1876 

I 

BAYREUTH,  February  7, 1875. 
DEAREST  CHILD, 

Marie  has  written  to  me  as  beautifully  from  Cologne  as 
you  did  from  Berlin. 

Fraulein  Lammert,  however,  is  still  silent.  Will  you  not 
induce  her  to  send  a  favourable  reply,  and  an  unconditional  one? 
I  must  keep  order. 

Warmest  greeting  to  mamma,  and  also  to  Marie.  God  knows 
what  you  all  may  still  have  to  do  for  me,  for  you  are  so  good. 

Heartily  your, 

UNCLE  RICHARD  WAGNER. 

II 

BAYREUTH,  May  n,  1875. 

DEAREST  LITTLE  LEHMANN, 

Best  thanks  for  the  admonition  concerning  Fraulein  Grossi; 
unfortunately,  I  have  not  been  able  to  write  her  until  just  now, 
for  I  have  again  been  in  Vienna.  Moreover,  I  recently  had  the 
idea  of  giving  the  part  of  Gutrune  to  Grossi ;  there  is  almost  noth- 
ing to  "sing, "  and  it  is  only  necessary  to  be  lovely,  to  go  through 
a  simple  pantomime,  so  that  her  task  compared  with  one  of  the 
Rhine  maidens — in  the  third  act  of  the  Gdtterddmmerung  alone — 
entirely  vanishes. 

198 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  199 

Your  scores  have  all  been  properly  sent  to  you  to-day.  Par- 
don! Does  Fraulein  Lammert  still  live  so  far  away?  and  you  so 
near? 

Oh,  what  confusion! 

Kindest  regards  to  your  mamma,  my  good  old  Lioness 
(Lowin) . 

In  the  hope  of  seeing  you  soon, 

Cordially  your  devoted, 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 

Ill 

Date  uncertain. 

DEAREST  LILLI, 

Now  only  a  brief  report  of  the  alteration  which  was  needful 
because  of  your  somewhat  belated  arrival.  I  cannot  change  the 
whole  plan  of  the  rehearsals,  because  everything  might  go  to 
pieces.  You  and  Fraulein  Lammert  are  not  free  until  June  2dt 
therefore  we  shall,  of  necessity,  delay  the  beginning  of  the  rehears- 
als until  June  3d,  in  the  afternoon,  but  shall  go  on  now  daily 
with  Rheingold,  leaving  then  the  two  following  Sundays  free  to 
take  the  place  of  the  two  deducted  week  days. 
Accordingly: 

Rheingold,  ist  scene,  June  3,  4,  5, 
2d,  3d  scenes,  "  6,  7,  8, 
4th  scene,  "  9,  10,  II, 

Walkiire  "  12. 

and  so  on,  I  hope,  without  trouble. 

I  beg  you  now  to  stand  by  me  loyally  in  the  keeping  of  this 
arrangement.  You  will  have  to  give  up  the  music  festival, 
indeed,  to  my  great  regret.  Vogl  is  in  the  same  situation. 

As  to  the  rest,  you  are  naughty — I  intended  to  say  good 
people,  all  of  you.  I  shall  soon  decide  about  the  Sieglinde. 

I  will  send  my  contribution,  at  all  events,  for  the  Hulsen 
jubilee.  I  have  come  to  value  this  excellent  man  very  highly. 

Here  is  still  something  "glorious"!  Cordial  greetings  to  the 
Rhine  maidens  and  their  mother. 

Your  most  faithful, 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 


200  My  Path  Through  Life 

IV 

BAYREUTH,  June  i,  1875. 
ESTEEMED  AND  DEAR  CHILD, 

I  wrote  to  Fraulein  Grossi,  at  Prague,  at  the  proper  time, 
since  which,  as  I  have  received  no  reply  from  her,  I  have  turned 
to  you,  dear  friend,  in  regard  to  the  acceptance  of  Gutrune  by  her. 
As  I  needed  another  soprano  for  one  of  the  Valkyries — 
Gerhilde — and  I  did  not  wish,  first,  to  seek  still  another  strange 
singer  for  it,  because  Fraulein  Grossi  for  Freia  and  Gutrune 
must  remain  there  at  the  beginning  and  the  end,  I  must  yield 
you  this  part,  also,  for  her.  God  grant  that  these  views  of  mine, 
with  regard  to  the  suitability  of  the  lady,  are  not  built  too  much 
on  sand.  I  know  nothing  of  her  and  her  good  will  as  yet,  except 
through  you,  dear  child.  Do  give  me  your  opinion  about  it. 

Perhaps  you  have  frightened  her  away  by  your  splendid 
example  in  respect  to  the  refusal  of  any  financial  indemnity. 
That  might  happen  with  enthusiastic  souls  like  you.  The  young 
lady,  who  is  so  far  removed  from  me,  might  become  discontented 
in  the  end,  if  her  co-operation  caused  her  special  expenses.  In 
this  case,  dearest  child,  I  beg  you  to  step  in  at  the  right  moment, 
and,  by  giving  her  assurances  from  me,  keep  the  young  lady  from 
possible  wavering. 

How  is  Marie?  Is  she  with  you  at  last?  Remember  me 
kindly  to  Fraulein  Lammert,  and  embrace  your  dear  mamma  for 
me,  now,  as  I  have  done. 

Hoping  for  a  happy  meeting  at  our  work. 

Your 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 
V 

BAYREUTH,  June  3,  1875. 

It  is  certain  that  you  are  a  most  admirable  child,  with  whom 
I  am  well  pleased.  As  you  are  related  as  closely  as  possible  to 
Marie,  the  same  applies  to  her. 

Believe  me,  when  I  say  that  I  have  need  of  such  splendid 
friendship.  I  send  you  also  my  medal. 

Hearty  greetings  from 
Your 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  201 

VI 

BAYREUTH,  September  26,  1875. 
DEAR  FRIEND, 

Here  is  a  letter  from  Reichenberg,  who  recommends  a  Walkure 
to  me.  You  know  that  you  have  been  made  Mistress  of  the 
Valkyries  by  me,  and,  hence,  I  beg  you  to  take  Reichenberg's 
offer  into  consideration,  and  also  to  communicate  with  him, 
commissioned  by  me.  What  do  you  hear  from  Wild  at  Cologne? 

I  have  had  much  annoyance  since  the  great  pleasure  of  our 
rehearsals.  Well,  it  has  come  out  in  all  the  papers,  and  I  ex- 
pected that  something  would  have  been  done  by  the  guests  of  our 
house  concerning  this  nastiness.  However,  it  does  not  seem  to  be 
taken  very  seriously.  Good! 

Regards  to  mamma  and  little  sister.  You  always  were  and 
will  be  the  best  of  all.  Express  to  Fraulein  Lammert  how  much 
I  regret  our  hasty  farewell.  My  wife  greets  you  all  warmly. 

Your  good  little 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 

vn 

VIENNA,  November  26,  1875, 
Hotel  Imperial. 

DEAR  FRIEND, 

First,  a  thousand  thanks. 

Fraulein  Amman  cannot  be  seen,  and  no  one  here  knows  her. 
If  I  only  had  the  part  of  Sigrune  back,  as,  because  of  the  uncertainty, 
I  have  got  Fraulein  Siegstadt  here  (she  is  excellent)  to  take  it. 

Grimmgerde  still  causes  me  trouble,  for  Jauner  believes  that 
he  cannot  do  without  his  only  contralto  (Fraulein  Treusel,  very 
good)  until  the  end  of  August. 

If  only  God  would  duplicate  our  Lammert! 

So  it  is!  This  is  just  to  let  you  know  something  about  me. 
I  hope  to  return  to  Bayreuth  on  December  I5th.  My  wife  and 
children  are  with  me  here. 

Best  regards  back  and  forth. 

In  a  wretched  mood, 

Your  ever-newly-beholden, 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 


202  My  Path  Through  Life 

VIII 

BAYREUTH,  January  4,  1876. 
YOU  DEAR,  GOOD  CHILD, 

You  are  really  the  only  one  that  I  know  to  be  a  human  being 
"outside  there."  I  can  depend  on  nobody.  If  you  were  only 
everywhere! — You  see  I  wrote  two  weeks  ago  to  Eckert,  concern- 
ing various  matters,  and  also  in  regard  to  our  orchestra.  Good! 
He  replied  to  me  through  Wieprecht  about  that.  That  was 
very  clever!  But  now  he  avoids  writing  to  me,  and  wherefore? 
Because  he  should  have  to  give  me  a  notice  about  the  Tristan 
business,  which,  naturally,  causes  every  kind  of  shame  and 
trouble.  From  the  outset,  I  have  not  counted — and  indeed 
without  any  vexation — upon  Tristan  at  Berlin.  It  is  too 
strange  to  be  believed  that  any  one  should  think  he  can  make 
shift  with  this  work,  if  only  with  respect  to  the  elements  of  it, 
without  me.  Rumours  reach  me  constantly.  The  latest  is  that 
I  was  expected  in  Berlin,  in  January,  to  "confer  with  Hulsen, 
Niemann,  Betz,  Fricke,  and  Voggenhuber  about  the  cast  for 
Tristan.  As  I  learned  nothing  more,  I  paid  no  attention  to 
this.  Now  comes  the  chance  that  I,  very  probably,  must  soon 
go  to  Berlin,  in  a  suit  against  Fiirstner,  the  music  dealer,  which 
I  do  not  take  lightly.  If  anything  is  now  going  on  with  Tristan, 
I  would  like,  of  course,  to  be  able  to  combine  the  two  matters. 
A  clear  and  exact  statement  of  the  situation  in  this  latter  affair, 
therefore,  would  be  most  welcome,  and  I  beg  you  for  it. 

What  is  this  about  the  "Bayreuth  soiree  or  matine'e?"  I 
cannot  decline  it,  although  I  have  refused  every  invitation  to 
give  a  concert  or  something  of  the  sort  for  Bayreuth,  i.e.,  for 
the  expenses  of  Bayreuth,  as,  if  I  announce  the  performances 
with  positiveness,  I  cannot  continue  to  labour  for  the  chances 
of  having  it  at  all.  Great  disappointments  and  difficulties  have 
set  in,  and  we  suffer  much  from  them.  Still  of  the  thing  itself  I 
admit  no  further  doubt.  I  take  this  opportunity  of  telling 
you,  for  further  spreading  abroad,  that  Scaria  did  not  ask  2000 
florins  for  three  months,  (as  he  had  the  face  to  state  in  the 
Vienna  papers,)  but  7500  marks  for  the  month  of  August  only, 
and,  moreover,  250  marks  for  each  day  in  July,  whereupon  I 
gave  up  his  participation,  naturally,  for  the  sake  of  our  other 
colleagues.  (This  is  a  vexatious  little  matter,  by  the  way!) 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  203 

What  a  stupid  business,  also,  that  was  with  Fraulein  Amman 
in  Vienna.  Not  a  word  came  from  her  up  to  the  last  days  of 
my  stay  there,  when  I  had  finally  obtained  Fraulein  Siegstadt; 
on  the  day  before  my  departure  she  announced  herself  with  her 
address.  I  had  no  time  left,  and  now  I  have  lost  her  letter — 
and  the  address. 

Since  then  Siegstadt  has  put  me  off  again,  as  the  part  does 
not  seem  just  right  to  her.  Now  I  have  regrets  about  Amman ; 
where  does  she  hide  herself? 

Neither  have  I  yet  got  a  contralto  in  place  of  Frau  von  Muller, 
who  as  "Walkiire,"  writes  and  congratulates  me  constantly. 

Such  nonsense  is  perpetually  happening.  Well,  I  have  now 
told  you  everything,  my  manageress  and  conspiratress.  Remain 
kind  to  me.  Give  a  hearty  kiss  for  me  to  Marie  and  the  good 
Lammert,  and  think  with  true  affection  of 

Your  bothered  but  good 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 

IX 

BAYREUTH,  February  n,  1876. 
MOST  EXCELLENT  CHILD, 

'Tis  true  I  have  recently  already  had  dealings  with  a  Swede, 
but  he  was  one-eyed  and  a  Jew.  Now  let  us  make  a  trial  of 
a  real  "old  Swede,"  (Stockhausen??) — it  does  not  quite  please 
me! 

If  he  has  never  appeared  on  the  stage  the  part  of  Hagen 
is,  of  course,  a  great  deal  to  venture.  He  might  consider  the 
matter  a  little,  however.  I  shall  spend  the  last  week  of  February 
at  Berlin,  and  we  shall  then  see  what  the  little  Salome  has  con- 
trived. As  to  the  rest  I  have  not  yet  quite  broken  off  with 
Scaria;  a  legal  summons  to  cover  his  fee  here  with  an  attach- 
ment has  given  me  the  strange  explanation  of  his  behaviour, 
which  had  its  source  less  in  rudeness  and  impudence  than  in 
necessity.  For  that  part,  a  certain  Kogel  of  Cologne  is  recom- 
mended to  me,  who  refers  to  your  sister,  Marie.  I  have  asked 
him,  also,  to  come  to  Berlin. 

All  is  going  well  with  Fraulein  Amman.  Richter  is  much 
taken  with  her.  A  contralto  is  still  lacking  in  place  of  Fraulein 
von  Fischer. 


204  My  Path  Through  Life 

Well,  child,  I  shall  now  see  you  soon  again.     I  have  just 
written  to  Hiilsen,  also.     I  must  settle  everything  now,  so  as 
to  keep  the  months  free  for  myself  before  our  rehearsals. 
My  best  regards  to  mamma — to  Uncle  Betz  also. 
Three  cheers  for  the  Leipziger  Platz! 

With  all  my  heart,  your 
RICHARD  WAGNER 

(and  wife). 

[On  the  printed  invitation  to  the  singers  of  April  9,  1876.] 

X 

DEAREST  FRIEND, 

I  do  not  know  whether  I  have  not  already  sent  you  the  fol- 
lowing. It  does  not  matter.  In  case  something  can  still  be 
done  with  the  pupil  of  love,  you  can  use  the  accompanying 
copy  for  him. 

XI 

BAYREUTH,  April  16,  1876. 
DEAREST  LILLI, 

(The  printed  summons  of  April  9,  1876,  follows.) 

Most  obediently, 

R.  W. 

After  you  have  read  these  fine  things,  which  do  not  concern 
you  at  all,  and  which  I  inform  you  about  only  for  the  sake  of 
curiosity,  I  still  have  a  letter  from  Frau  Klara  Stockhausen  to 
lay  before  you,  which  I  received  yesterday  evening,  to  let  you 
see  what  a  mess  I  always  get  in.  Heavens,  I  perceive  that  all  the 
women  are  in  love  with  the  celestial  young  Swede,  but  his  pro- 
blematic acquisition  (I  still  could  not  discover  if  he  can  do  Donner 
properly)  seems  to  be  made  yet  more  doubtful  through  all  kinds 
of  difficulties.  I  really  have  no  time  to  bother  about  your 
Sangino,  with  the  attention  to  petty  details  that  Frau  Stock- 
hausen desires.  I  think  it  advisable  not  to  answer  her  at  all; 
it  is  so  simple.  On  the  other  hand,  if  you  can  do  it,  bring  the 
heavenly  Elmblad  with  you,  and  if  he  does  it  well  he  may  sing 
Donner ;  if  not,  I  must  know  how  to  help  myself. 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  205 

Many  fine,  yes,  if  you  will  permit,  tender  greetings  to  you  and 
mamma,  from 

Your  always  grateful, 

RICHARD  WAGNER, 

Composer. 

XII 

BAYREUTH,  April  26,  1876. 
DEAR  LILLI, 

You  have  made  a  pretty  difficulty  for  me !  I  turned  to  Herr 
von  Hulsen  with  such  impressiveness  that  I  assumed  he  would 
help  me,  for  I  had  to  explain  to  him  that,  if  my  plan  for  rehearsals, 
especially  in  regard  to  Rheingold,  cannot  be  adhered  to,  I  must 
at  once  call  off  the  performances  for  this  year.  Regarding 
Fraulein  Brandt,  I  could  have  wished  for  a  little  more  reasonable- 
ness from  you  all.  It  grew  clear  to  me  that  she  would  stand 
higher  in  her  artistic  performance  than  any  of  the  others  with 
whom  I  had  become  acquainted.  The  unattractiveness  of  her 
physiognomy  is  important  only  off  the  stage,  and  for  those  who 
are  most  closely  associated  with  her;  it  counts  for  nothing  on 
the  stage,  and  especially  in  my  theatre,  and  her  slender  figure 
alone  will  have  a  good  effect. 

One  may  indeed  expect  of  an  artist  like  Niemann,  that,  in  his 
dramatic  excitement,  the  whole  surroundings  are  transfigured  to 
him,  and  he  has  no  consciousness  of  the  common  and  actual;  it 
depends  on  him  how  the  whole  appears,  including  himself,  not 
how  it  really  is,  divested  of  the  magic  of  the  dramatic  scene.  Gar- 
rick  and  Kean  took  a  beer  jug  instead  of  a  child  in  their  arms,  and 
their  closest  spectator  was  transported  with  horror  as  the  father 
seemed  to  intend  to  throw  the  child  into  the  river. 

In  short,  I  am  not  much  edified  by  this  unqualified  repulse  of 
Fraulein  Brandt,  and  it  will  aggravate  my  difficulty. 

It  is  fine  that  you  want  to  have  ensemble  rehearsals  again  in 
May  at  your  home.  I  beg  you  then,  in  any  case,  to  draw  my 
niece,  Johanna  Jachmann,  into  them  also,  with  you  three  Valky- 
ries; she  has  definitely  undertaken  the  part  of  Schwertleite,  and 
the  practising  with  you  three  will  be  very  useful  to  her. 

I  must  now  cause  you  sorrow.  It  is  a  load  on  my  heart  that 
you  did  not  guess  that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  keep  Herr  Herr- 


206  My  Path  Through  Life 

lich  as  Froh.  Am  I  obliged  to  tell  you  now  that  our  poor  friend 
would  be  really  ridiculous?  I  am  sorry.  Mediate  in  this  as 
best  you  can,  and  it  would  be  of  value  to  me  if  HerrKch,  as  indeed 
was  originally  intended,  would  prove  himself  of  real  use  to  me  as 
leader  of  the  vassals. 

Donner  is  entirely  your  affair.  May  God  give  His  blessing 
to  Herr  von  Hulsen's  decision. 

Hearty  greetings  from  a  very  heavy  heart,  from 

Your 
R.  WAGNEE. 

Have  you  any  idea  where  Weckerlin  is  living,  and  whether 
she  is  still  possible  for  us  or  among  us? 

It  is  very  fine  to  hear  of  your  co-operation  at  the  Rhen- 
ish Music  Festival  at  the  beginning  of  June !  Oho ! 

XIII 

BAYREUTH,  May  n,  1876. 
BEST  OF  FRIENDS, 

Our  Herrlich  is  making  things  hard  for  me.  He  should  have 
taken  a  better,  perhaps  even  a  more  modest,  attitude  towards 
the  bridge  that  I  built  for  him  out  of  pure  good-will,  and  in  order 
to  leave  no  mortification  behind.  In  truth,  I  fabricated  nothing 
in  my  last  and  very  exhaustive  explanation  to  him,  although  he 
scoffed  at  me  as  though  I  had  done  so.  The  matter  is  really 
exactly  as  I  have  put  it  before  him,  only  it  is  true  that,  for  a 
long  time,  I  lost  sight  of  the  importance  of  Froh,  and  my  old 
purpose  came  up  again  only  when  I  had  to  recognise  that  it 
would  greatly  lessen  for  linger  the  unusual  difficulty  in  obtaining 
the  first  act  of  Siegfried  for  himself,  (with  which  there  is  so  much 
confusion  here,)  if  he,  as  Froh,  could  immediately  turn  attention 
to  his  voice,  which  is  now  so  magnificent,  in  the  few  but  brilliant 
passages.  I  wrote  to  you,  dearest  Lilli,  in  great  haste  and  rather 
briefly  about  it,  and  you  probably  executed  the  task  with 
harshness. 

Friend  Herrlich  might  now  make  the  matter  somewhat  easy 
for  me.  I  have  not  wished  to  hurt  him,  because  he  was  brought 
to  me  by  you  and  your  mother,  and  I  have  now  written  longer 
letters  to  him  than  I  often  do  in  the  most  important  cases.  He 
may  or  he  may  not  come;  in  the  latter  event  a  reimbursement  for 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  207 

his  stay  is  at  his  disposition,  of  course.     I  can  do  without  him; 
that  I  tell  you  in  confidence. 

But  now  on  your  conscience,  how  is  it  with  Elmblad  Donner? 
Elmblad  must  in  any  event  undertake,  also,  the  part  of  a  vassal. 
If  I  can  surely  depend  upon  him  I  much  want  to  let  Niering  take 
Hunding,  also,  which  r61e  I  am  keeping  back  only  for  the  reason 
that  I  do  not  know  whether  I  am  assured  of  the  Swede  for 
Donner. 

Well!!! 

Kindest  regards.  It  is  easy  for  us  to  understand  each  other, 
and  only  certain  croakers  make  it  often  necessary  to  write  at 
fearful  length. 

Ever  your  devoted, 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 


The  first  great  period  of  Bayreuth,  included  in  the  years 
1875  to  1876,  is  surrounded  by  a  halo  to  my  spiritual  eyes. 
Nothing  belonging  to  it  could  grow  pale  during  the  long 
years ;  the  effect  of  it  remains,  despite  all  newer  achievements 
in  the  province  of  opera,  and  that  alone,  if  such  were  needed, 
would  furnish  proof  of  its  extraordinary  power.  Although 
the  enterprise  was  solely  Richard  Wagner's  idea,  he  alone 
urged  on  the  deed,  and  he  alone  led  the  work,  yet  very  many 
differently  endowed  talents  were  needed  to  bring  it  to  the 
completed  production ;  and  the  magnificent  success  that  one 
person  could  never  have  brought  to  a  consummation  is  to  be 
ascribed  only  to  the  combined  talents.  The  spiritual  forces 
were  united  in  the  leaders  and  other  participants.  The  bond 
of  belonging  together  made  them  strong,  incited  them  to  the 
development  of  their  highest  artistic  potency,  and  caused 
them  to  fix  as  the  pinnacle  of  their  desires  the  taking  pleasure 
themselves  in  the  almost-unheard  of  tasks  which  were  then 
of  equal  musical  and  intellectual  difficulty,  as  a  tribute  to 
their  master. 

The  individual  soul  of  the  single  artist  was  of  supreme 
value  to  Wagner,  without  whose  greater  or  lesser  genius  he 


208  My  Path  Through  Life 

could  never  have  reached  mighty  effects,  nor  indeed,  did  he 
desire  to  do  so,  a  fact  that  should  be  credited  to  the  highest 
honour  of  his  clear  artistic  comprehension.  He  knew  what 
he  owed  to  the  art  of  the  stage  in  its  fullest  extent ;  what 
he  demanded  of  his  artists;  what  he  should  receive  from 
those  who  took  part,  intellectually,  in  his  work,  and 
who,  just  because  of  that,  breathed  a  special  individual 
life  into  it,  that  now  for  the  first  time  completely  set  free 
in  the  listener  all  those  emotions  that  no  score,  be  it  ever 
so  glorious,  no  puppets  nor  any  scenery  taken  alone,  could 
really  liberate. 

So  there  was  much  that  was  unique  in  its  way  in  the  year 
1876  that  could  never  be  repeated.  There  was  Wagner  in 
his  full  creative  power;  the  splendid  setting  that  unchained 
and  gave  us  freedom  at  the  same  time;  the  separate  artistic 
impersonations  that  one  can  never  see  and  hear  again  and 
that  were  positively  electrifying.  There  was  the  tone  of  the 
orchestra,  consisting  only  of  great  artists;  the  work  of  art; 
the  individual  emotions  that  animated  us,  and  carried  us 
away  up  to  the  level  of  the  great  Genius  himself;  all  were 
combined  in  an  immeasurable  whole  that  inspired  us  almost 
with  frenzy.  It  was  like  a  strange  and  powerful  magic  spell 
that  still  operates  its  ensnaring  force  in  memory,  and, 
purified  of  all  the  miserable  human  dross,  works  on  me  with 
classical  ecstasy. 

Wagner  was  goodness  and  consideration  itself  to  all  his 
artists.  He  was  most  especially  so  to  me.  His  penetrating 
eye  often  rested  tenderly  and  searchingly  on  me  as  though  he 
would  pierce  me  through  and  through.  He  was  troubled  in- 
cessantly by  others  about  little  things,  and,  if  he  then  occa- 
sionally flew  into  a  passion,  it  was  not  to  be  wondered  at. 
Only  a  few  knew  of  the  immense  labour  of  this  man.  Even 
if  he  had  trod  on  corpses  to  reach  his  goal,  who  would  have 
blamed  him  for  it?  But  Wagner  did  not  do  that.  He 
exerted  himself  honestly,  and  often  with  endless  patience, 
to  see  justice  done  to  each,  and  to  bring  everything,  even  the 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  209 

most  disagreeable  happening,  with  the  exercise  of  much 
skill,  to  a  good  issue.  I  have  never  experienced  his  "ingrati- 
tude," and  I  never  observed  it  towards  others.  In  order 
to  create  Bayreuth  he  had  to  believe  in  himself,  and  had  to 
ask  sacrifices  of  those  who  were  able  to  make  them.  There 
were  cares  enough  by  his  side,  of  which  we  had  no  suspicion. 
He  did  not  succeed  in  confining  his  broad  mind  in  narrow 
limits.  We  knew  well,  even  then,  that  the  money  for  the 
enormous  expenses  could  be  raised  only  through  revenues 
that  were  refused.  How  bad  the  outlook  was,  even  in  his 
house,  at  that  time,  I  did  not  learn  until  twenty  years  later 
from  Frau  Cosima. 

From  the  letters  to  his  artists  it  is  clear  how  endless  was 
the  preliminary  work  that  was  requisite  to  set  the  task  into 
motion.  Only  he  who  has  ever  watched  at  close  range  the 
growth  of  such  an  undertaking,  or  who  has  himself  shared  in 
it,  can  form  a  conception  of  the  never-ending  cares  and  labour 
that  attend  it  up  to  the  last  moment.  Whoever  knows  how 
to  work  punctiliously,  who  is  accustomed  to  regulate,  and 
who  possesses  a  practical  eye  that  grasps  everything  at  once 
at  the  right  end,  can  accomplish  wonders  in  a  short  time,  if 
he  only  meets  with  those  who  are  like-minded  and  similarly 
trained.  But  to  work  with  those  who  are  unpractical  and 
devoid  of  a  sense  of  duty  multiplies  the  difficulties  a  thou- 
sandfold, to  which  ideal  enterprises  frequently  are  completely 
sacrificed.  It  is  remarkable  that  Wagner  did  not  often  lose 
courage  entirely;  he  had  enough  against  him,  but  his  good 
humour  and  energy,  thank  God,  always  conquered  afresh. 
I  helped  as  far  as  I  could,  and  acquitted  myself  instantly  of 
everything  he  entrusted  to  me  to  discharge.  As  soon,  how- 
ever, as  a  third  person  came  into  the  matter  the  chief  part 
remained  undone,  in  spite  of  all  letters  of  warning.  One  was 
often  in  despair. 

At  the  end  of  June,  1875,  we  were  again  sitting  in  the 
"Sonne"  at  Bayreuth.  This  time  we  were  not  alone.  The 
inns,  as  well  as  the  city,  were  filled  forthwith  by  artists,  and 
14 


210  My  Path  Through  Life 

an  unusual  life  began  to  animate  the  dead  little  town. 
Except  Niemann  and  Betz,  who  sought  rest  and  shelter  at  a 
private  villa  up  at  the  theatre,  Amalie  Friedrich-Materna, 
Scaria  and  his  family,  Hill,  von  Reichenberg,  almost  all  the 
Valkyries,  and  ourselves  lived  at  the  dear  "Sonne."  Only 
a  few  were  at  the  "  Reichsadler, "  or  provided  for  in  private 
houses. 

Mamma  and  I  occupied  a  large  front  room,  while  my 
sister  and  Fraulein  Lammert  had  one  towards  the  garden. 
We  were  the  first  to  arrive  for  the  rehearsals,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  we  sang  for  Wagner  at  "Wahnfried, "  our  Rhine 
maidens'  trio  by  heart,  without  a  mistake,  as  was  proper, 
and  with  boundless  love  and  delight. 

I  might  say  that  my  noblest  memory  is  the  moment  when 
we  saw  the  big  tears  rolling  down  Wagner's  face  during  our 
singing,  and  heard  Frau  Cosima  sobbing  loudly.  My 
mother,  also,  wept  quietly  to  herself;  how  deeply  she  must 
have  been  affected  by  everything  at  that  moment. 

We  three  were  much  moved,  likewise,  although  we  were 
not  a  little  proud.  From  that  time  on,  we  had  to  render  the 
song  every  morning  and  evening.  Our  greatest  triumph  lay 
in  the  fact  that  we  were  the  only  ones  who  had  completely 
finished  their  roles,  and  we  impressed  Wagner  and  every  one 
else  with  our  great  certainty.  When  we  sang  it  for  Liszt 
for  the  first  time,  and  we  made  a  success  of  the  very  difficult 
passages  in  the  G  otter ddmmerung,  Liszt  laughed  and  shook 
his  head.  He  did  not  believe  his  ears  that  they  could  really 
be  taken  aright.  We  had  to  repeat  them  often  for  him,  and 
the  Rheingold,  also,  every  evening,  in  which  Hill-Alberich 
now  joined. 

Most  of  them  first  studied  their  r61es  at  Bayreuth. 
Anton  Seidl,  Felix  Mottl,  Franz  Fischer,  Zumpe,  and 
Zimmer,  all  tyros  at  conducting,  rehearsed  with  the  artists  in 
every  nook  and  corner.  Niemann  and  Betz  had  brought 
Franz  Mannstaedt  with  them  from  Berlin.  Josef  Rubinstein 
accompanied  us  at  Wagner's;  in  short,  each  studied  with  a 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  211 

different  person.  Nibelungen  sounds  came  from  every 
hotel  room,  calls  and  whistles  from  every  street;  there  were 
Nibelungen  signals  wherever  one  went,  which  even  our  dogs 
knew  and  answered  with  loud  barks. 

We  all  gathered  at  Wagner's  during  the  day  and  every 
evening.  They  were  evenings  that  were  undisturbed  by 
anything  extraneous;  then  the  master  belonged  only  to 
the  artists,  and  with  the  exception  of  the  most  intimate  Bay- 
reuth friends  only  Liszt  was  included  in  this  circle.  Gura 
sang  many  of  Lowe's  ballads,  of  which  Wagner  was  espe- 
cially fond.  It  was  there,  also,  that  he  sang  for  me  Lowe's 
ballad,  "  Walpurgisnacht,"  bringing  out  its  significance  quite 
wonderfully,  and  he  asked  Josef  Rubinstein  to  rise  that  he 
might  accompany  it  himself,  because  the  former  did  not 
grasp  correctly  the  spirit  of  the  poem,  that  is  to  say  of 
the  composition. 

Wagner  expressed  his  surprise  to  me  that  this  ballad  was 
never  sung,  for  it  is  very  powerful,  and  he  gave  it  especially 
into  my  keeping.  For  years  I  carried  the  thought  of  it 
about  with  me,  but  I  forgot  the  title,  and  searched  without 
finding  it.  One  day  I  received  Lowe's  Ballads,  sent  to  me  by 
Herr  Grunow  of  Stettin,  and  amongst  them  the  "Walpurgis- 
nacht" blazed  forth  at  me,  like  my  salvation. 

"Thank  God!"  I  cried  aloud.  Since  then  I  have  sung  it 
a  great  deal,  and  always  with  the  thought  of  Wagner,  for 
whom,  alas,  I  may  not  perform  it  any  more. 

Wagner  loved  and  revered  Mozart.  How  often  I  had 
to  sing  for  him  arias  from  Figaro,  which  he  always  discussed 
with  admiration  of  Mozart.  I  sang  several  times  for  Frau 
Cosima,  especially,  Liszt's  Mignon,  even  before  he,  himself, 
appeared  in  Bayreuth.  One  day  when  I  was  doing  it 
again  "by  request,"  I  saw  Wagner  enter  and  listen  to  the 
end.  Then,  with  his  head  thrown  back,  a  bearing  that  gave 
him  the  appearance  of  great  self-consciousness,  he  strode 
rather  stiffly  through  the  drawing-room  with  a  bundle  of 
music  under  his  arm,  and  turned,  before  leaving,  to  Frau 


212  My  Path  Through  Life 

Cosima.  "Really,  my  dear, "  he  said,  " I  did  not  know  that 
your  father  had  written  such  pretty  songs ;  I  thought  he  had 
rendered  service  only  in  fingering  for  piano  playing.  On  the 
whole,  the  poem  about  the  blooming  lemon  trees  always 
reminds  me  of  a  funeral  messenger."  Whereupon  he 
imitated  the  gestures  of  a  funeral  attendant  carrying  lemons. 
Frau  Cosima  had  to  receive,  with  a  laugh,  what  was  not 
pleasant  for  either  her  or  me  to  hear. 

But  one  had  to  excuse  him,  as  it  was  not  always  easy 
for  him,  when  the  attempt  was  made  to  "educate"  him,  at 
the  age  of  sixty-two,  if  he,  for  instance,  did  not  use  his 
knife  at  table  sufficiently  in  the  English  fashion,  whereby 
many  a  dinner  came  to  a  speedy  and  unexpected  end.  But 
he  was  usually  very  affable  and  joked  a  great  deal  with  his 
children — his  eldest  daughter  had  just  returned  from  board- 
ing school.  If  one  or  the  other,  however,  appeared  upon 
the  scene,  he  would  ask  her,  rather  sarcastically,  what  was 
the  word  for  lamp,  cup,  book,  etc.,  in  French,  and  tease 
her  because  the  use  of  French  in  his  own  house  was  very 
distasteful  to  him.  His  antipathy  to  it  went  so  far  that,  in 
1876,  he  issued  a  formal  prohibition  of  it  in  his  house,  and 
expressed  the  wish  to  his  guests  that  only  German  might  be 
spoken  at  "Wahnfried."  During  the  year  of  the  first  rehear- 
sals it  was  avoided,  although,  to  Frau  Cosima,  French  was  her 
mother  tongue,  and  to  Liszt  his  language  for  conversation, 
and  both  being  accustomed  to  speak  it  they  did  not  like  to 
use  German. 

It  is  remarkable  what  a  relative  stranger  Liszt  remained 
to  me.  We  now  were  together  every  evening,  in  the  year 
'76  almost  oftener;  he  was  always  dear  and  kind,  and 
praised  us  liberally,  and  yet  I  never  got  nearer  to  him.  It 
may  have  been  because  he  was  either  claimed  by  the  family 
at  "Wahnfried,"  or,  especially  in  '76,  was  obliged  to  be 
almost  exclusively  with  those  visitors,  who,  as  patrons, 
brought  money  to  the  enterprise,  and  who  took  him  by 
storm  and  did  not  allow  him  to  have  a  free  moment.  Per- 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  213 

haps  the  cause  is  also  to  be  found  In  the  numerous  pretty 
women,  young  and  old,  who  dogged  his  footsteps,  accom- 
panied him  to  and  from  church,  who  appeared  like  little 
beauty  plasters  at  his  side,  and  who  seemed  to  be  as  indis- 
pensable to  the  great  man  as  sun  and  air.  He  was  accus- 
tomed to  it!  He  was  accustomed  to  it  from  his  pupils, 
from  the  thousand  needy  persons  who  implored  his  assist- 
ance, and  whom,  with  his  kindness  of  heart,  he  helped 
knowingly  and  indeed  unknowingly,  also,  for  they  misused 
his  name  as  teacher. 

I  would  not  permit  myself  to  annoy  this  much  tormented 
man  still  further,  to  fall  upon  him  on  the  street  or  in  the 
theatre  as  so  many  did,  and  so  I  restricted  myself  to  talking 
with  him  on  the  regular  occasions  which  I  had  every  day 
at  "Wahnfried, "  where  we  were  together  at  the  nightly 
rendezvous  or  at  the  more  intimate  dinners  for  the  artists. 

We  learned  after  the  first  performances  with  what 
sentiments  Wagner  thought  of  his  debt  of  gratitude  to 
Liszt,  when  we  were  assembled  in  a  very  select  artistic  circle 
for  dinner  at  "Wahnfried, "  and  Wagner  proposed  a  toast 
to  Liszt.  He  spoke  with  great  warmth  and  from  his  heart, 
showing  in  a  strong  light  the  untiring  sacrifices  which  Liszt 
had  made  for  him;  and  how  thankful  he  should  be  to  him 
with  his  whole  soul  for  all  the  friendship  which  he  had 
unfalteringly  and  loyally  manifested.  We  were  equally 
moved  by  Wagner's  words  and  Liszt's  reply.  It  was  the 
first  look  that  I  had,  from  Wagner's  side,  into  Liszt's  great, 
kind,  human  soul,  and  it  told  me  enough  to  blunt  forever 
all  the  foolish  talk  about  Wagner's  ingratitude.  The  effect 
was  so  strong  on  those  present  that  we  ourselves  embraced 
a  woman  colleague,  who  had  not  deserved  it  in  any  way,  and 
whom  we  now  received  back  into  favour,  forgetting  all  that 
had  happened. 

Things  did  not  always  go  so  emotionally;  we  had  plenty 
of  reason  to  be  gay.  In  '75  Bayreuth  still  belonged  solely 


214  My  Path  Through  Life 

to  the  artists,  and  they  simply  turned  it  upside  down. 
And  yet  that  is  not  correct.  They  used  it  as  their  play- 
ground, and  the  narrow-minded  little  citizens  of  Bayreuth 
stood  on  their  heads.  Betz  and  Niemann,  who  lived  up  at 
the  villa,  were  seldom  to  be  seen.  Only  when  we  drank 
coffee  with  Betz  did  we  see  Niemann-Siegmund  sitting  on 
the  garden  window-sill,  dangling  his  legs  and  studying  his 
part.  Mannstaedt  accompanied  him  at  the  piano,  while 
Niemann  beat  time,  repeated  each  phrase  a  thousand  times, 
and  berated  himself  when  he  blundered. 

After  our  work  was  done,  it  became  very  lively  at  the 
"Sonne."  Scaria  had  a  little  monkey  that  ran  about  con- 
stantly on  the  window  cornice,  and,  when  his  small  wife 
annoyed  him,  he  would  seat  her  on  the  big  German  room- 
stove,  from  which  she  could  not  get  down  alone.  Eilers- 
Fasolt,  Gura,  and  other  gentlemen  wrapped  in  linen  sheets, 
used  to  do  savage  war-dances  in  front  of  the  hotel.  Amalie 
Materna  would  seat  herself  in  the  empty  hotel  omnibus  that 
always  stood  before  the  house,  without  the  horses,  my  sister 
and  I  would  leap  up  on  the  box,  whip  in  hand,  while  Friedrich 
and  Scaria  would  drag  it  through  the  streets;  and  all  this 
was  done  at  full  noon.  We  serenaded  ourselves  every 
evening;  every  morning  all  the  boots  and  shoes  at  the 
doors  were  mixed  up,  and  so  it  went  on.  There  were 
parties  and  picnics  to  "  Rollwenzel, "  made  famous  by  Jean 
Paul,  or  to  "  Phantaisie, "  or  even  up  in  the  new  theatre, 
where  they  had  struck  water,  necessitating  the  changing  of 
the  entire  stage  arrangement ;  in  short  it  was  an  ideally  mad 
life,  such  as  never  can  occur  again. 

One  evening  we  artists  performed  Schiller's  Glove. 
Rehearsals  and  preparations  had  occupied  us  for  days. 
Gura  read  the  poem;  Scaria  was  King  Franz.  He  had  on 
flesh-coloured  tights,  a  short  little  white  tarlatan  skirt,  and 
was  decollete,  so  that  he  looked  like  a  ballet  dancer.  Over 
all  hung,  like  a  scapulary  before  and  behind,  a  peasant's 
window  shade,  painted  in  many  colours,  and  his  head  was 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  215 

adorned  with  a  black  paper  crown,  ornamented  with  gold 
and  carrots.  Fraulein  "Kunigunde"  was  acted  by  a  tall 
young  tenor,  for  whom  mamma  made  a  very  narrow-trained 
dress  out  of  a  coffee  bag,  and  trimmed  it  with  gold.  Fried- 
rich  was  the  "tiger";  von  Reichenberg  the  "lion."  "The 
twice-opened  gate"  did  not  vomit  forth  "two  leopards," 
indeed,  but  ballet-master  Fricke  set  down  on  the  stage, 
very  carefully,  two  six-weeks-old  kittens,  and,  in  big  letters, 
was  written  on  the  platform  of  the  palace,  "Feeding  the 
animals  is  forbidden." 

For  King  Franz  a  tiny  little  child's  chair  had  been 
borrowed,  in  which  fat  Scaria  simply  could  not  force  himself. 
We  three  Rhine  maidens,  "the  ladies  with  beautiful  wreaths," 
were  made  up  as  hideous  as  possible.  There  was  great 
merriment  and  afterwards  dancing.  Wagner  was  also 
"invited,"  of  course,  and  was  so  delighted,  so  exuberant, 
that,  in  spite  of  Cosima's  presence  he  stood  right  on  his  head, 
and,  over  and  over  again,  clinked  glasses  with  his  dear  old 
friend,  Marie,  my  mother,  and  drained  his  glass.  Thus  did 
one  joke  follow  another,  when  we  were  done  with  serious 
matters  and  the  rehearsals. 

We  were  present  at  all  the  rehearsals,  even  when  we  did 
not  take  part,  and  saw  and  listened  and  learned.  Except 
in  Munich,  where  Kheingold  and  Walkure  had  already  been 
given,  one  had  become  acquainted  only  with  fragments. 
There  was  no  end  to  the  curiosity,  the  astonishment,  the 
criticisms,  and  none  to  the  agitation  either.  Music  and 
subject  matter  threw  us  equally  into  ecstasy,  filled  us  with 
reverence  on  the  one  hand,  and  then  again  struck  us  as 
strange  and  incomprehensible,  until  at  last  the  whole  web 
became  clear.  One  understood  at  once  if  Wagner  played  a 
scene  first,  and  what  many  of  the  singers  could  not  grasp, 
sing,  nor  act  they  learned  to  seize  quickly  and  rightly  through 
Wagner's  personal  corrections. 

Two  scenes,  especially,  are  engraved  indelibly  on  my 
mind  through  that  fact.  The  Sieglinde  then  was  Fraulein. 


216  My  Path  Through  Life 

Scheffsky  from  Munich,  who,  it  was  believed,  was  a  friend 
of  the  King.  She  was  large,  powerful,  and  had  a  strong  voice, 
but  was  possessed  of  neither  the  poetry  nor  the  brains  to 
express  in  the  very  least  what,  moreover,  she  did  not  feel 
at  all,  not  to  mention  that  she  could  not  have  rendered  it 
technically.  In  the  first  scene,  where  Sieglinde,  overcome 
by  grief  and  horror  at  the  spiritual  wretchedness  of  her  home, 
has  called  Siegmund  back,  she  failed  completely.  Her 
Sieglinde  had  not  the  faintest  suspicion  either  of  the  great- 
ness of  her  sorrow  nor  of  the  inner  power  of  her  yearning  and 
her  destiny. 

Wagner  was  extremely  dissatisfied,  and  acted  the  scene 
for  her.  Sieglinde  stands  transfixed  before  the  wide  stone 
table  as  Siegmund  moves  from  the  hearth  with  the  words : 
"fort  wend'  ich  Fuss  und  Schritt,"  on  the  point  of  rushing 
forth.  Something  that  she  cannot  control  struggles  in 
Sieglinde's  breast;  her  countenance  indicates  her  terrible 
grief,  and  her  fear  that  this  man,  whom  she  does  not  know, 
but  who,  she  feels,  belongs  to  her,  will  leave  her  again  alone 
in  her  misery,  causes  her  to  cry,  "So  bleibe  hier!"  whereby 
she  turns  her  face  and  body  just  a  little,  evidently  to  hasten 
after  him.  Then  she  resumes  her  former  attitude,  and  with 
the  words,  "wo  unheil  im  Hause  wohnt!"  she  supports 
herself  behind  with  both  hands  on  both  sides  of  the  body 
holding  fast  to  the  table,  where  she  remains  standing,  almost 
crushed  with  agony,  her  head  thrown  back  and  her  eyes 
closed,  until  she  is  alarmed  by  Hunding's  step,  which  she 
first  follows  only  with  eye  and  ear,  then  with  an  anxious  move- 
ment of  the  body,  until  she  goes  to  open  the  door  for  him. 
Wagner,  with  his  bad  figure,  played  this  with  overwhelmingly 
touching  expression.  Never  yet  has  a  Sieglinde  known  how 
to  approach  him,  even  approximately. 

The  second  scene  concerns  Sieglinde  once  more,  in  the 
third  act  of  the  Walkure,  when  Brunhild  announces  t6  her: 
"Ein  Walsung  wachst  Dir  im  Schoss."  Sieglinde  who  has 
just  been  kneeling  before  Brunhild,  and  has  violently 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  217 

implored  her  for  death,  springs  up  in  nameless  fear,  and, 
almost  petrified,  remains  simply  standing  a  moment. 
Suddenly  her  face  becomes  transfigured,  a  wave  of  the  highest 
happiness  flows  through  her  body,  and  then  she  begs  as 
insistently  for  the  rescue  of  herself  and  her  child  as  before 
she  had  asked  for  death. 

Wagner  expressed  this  change,  for  the  spectator  as  well 
as  for  the  singer,  with  masterly  clearness.  Only  one 
who  was  entirely  without  talent,  could  fail — in  case  he 
neither  felt  it  nor  could  do  it  by  himself — after  some  study 
to  try,  at  least,  to  imitate  it.  But  there  continued  to  be 
much  trouble  over  it,  and  at  last  Wagner  became  quite 
beside  himself.  Even  at  the  last  rehearsals  he  asked  me 
if  it  would  not  be  better  for  me  to  sing  Sieglinde.  But  who 
could  have  learned  quickly  the  part  of  Helmwiege?  It  was 
too  late  and  I  begged  Wagner  to  press  it  no  further. 

When  the  King  came,  on  August  6th,  to  the  general 
rehearsals,  he  must  have  noticed  how  bad  things  were  with 
Sieglinde,  for  he  enquired  of  Wagner  why  the  part  had  been 

given  to  Fraulein  S. Wagner  replied:  "Because  we 

understood  that  Your  Majesty  was  especially  interested  in 
the  lady. "  "  Oh,  no, "  said  the  King,  "not  at  all.  Sometimes 
I  have  her  sing  Lieder  at  my  winter  garden,  hidden  behind 
trees  and  flowers,  but  that  is  all."  As  Wagner  repeated  this 
to  me  himself  it  is  authentic.  It  is  perhaps  a  mere  story 

that  Fraulein  S jumped  into  the  waves  of  the  little  lake 

in  this  very  same  winter  garden,  cried  for  help,  and  as  the 
King  appeared,  attempted  to  cling  to  him.  The  King  is 
said  to  have  shouted  at  her,  "Don't  touch  me!"  and  then 
to  have  rung  for  the  servant,  and  ordered  him  to  assist  the 
lady.  Frau  Vogl  and  then  Frau  von  Voggenhuber  were 
chosen  originally  for  Sieglinde,  but  both  had  to  decline,  as 
they  were  ill  at  the  same  time. 

The  more  we  comprehended,  the  greater  was  the  attrac- 
tion; we  lived  only  in  a  state  of  exaltation,  and  were  dis- 
solved in  enthusiasm  for  the  work.  As  we  felt  with  regard 


2i8  My  Path  Through  Life 

to  the  composition,  so  was  Wagner  consumed  in  his  task. 
And,  every  evening,  after  the  troubles  of  the  day,  the  artists 
assembled  at  his  house,  to  which  also  the  whole  orchestra, 
conductor,  and  chorus  were  invited  once  for  all.  In  the 
still  new  and  beautiful  garden,  one  walked  out  arm  in  arm 
with  Wagner  himself.  How  often  did  I  rush  around  it  with 
him,  while  he  talked  to  me  of  his  Bayreuth  plans,  as  he 
intended  to  give  not  only  the  Ring,  but  also  works  by  other 
great  masters,  notably,  Fidelio,  and  Don  Juan.  Large 
side  tables  with  cold  dishes  and  beer  were  set  up  in  the 
garden,  which  refreshments  swallowed  up  25,000  marks, 
as  I  was  told  on  the  best  authority.  It  happened  there  once 
that  Frau  Jaide,  our  admirable  Waltraute  and  mythical 
Wala,  was  standing,  with  a  plate  full  of  rolls,  next  to  Nie- 
mann,  who  knew  her  very  well,  and  who  was  eating  with  her 
from  the  same  plate.  Frau  Cosima  took  umbrage  at  this 
and  found  fault  with  Niemann,  who  thereupon  turned  his 
back  on  "Wahnfried, "  and  even  departed.  He  had  to  be 
brought  back,  and  afterwards  many  another,  likewise, 
who  was  not  disposed  to  submit  to  the  tyranny  of 
"Wahnfried." 

When  it  grew  dark,  or  if  it  rained,  every  one  returned  to 
the  drawing-rooms,  where  much  divine  music  was  performed. 
Wilhelmy  often  played  alone,  accompanied  by  Levi,  or  in 
quartets  with  Mahr,  Toms,  and  Griitzmacher  in  glorious 
fashion.  Vogl  and  his  wife  once  sang  the  "Love  Duet"  from 
Tristan,  and  I  listened  breathlessly,  turned  towards  the 
bookshelves.  Both  singers  began  softly,  scarcely  perceptibly, 
and  swelled  their  whispers  to  billows  of  sound,  which  then 
ebbed  slowly  back  again.  I  heard  it  for  the  first  time,  and, 
when  it  was  over,  I  could  not  bring  myself  back  again  to 
reality. 

Wagner  read  aloud  to  us,  one  evening,  in  a  very  small 
circle,  from  his  book,  Mein  Leben  (My  Life),  which,  at  that 
time,  was  printed  in  only  a  hundred  copies,  and  was  only 
put  in  the  hands  of  such  friends  as  had  pledged  their  word 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  219 

of  honour  not  to  betray  anything  in  it.  It  was  to  be  Sieg- 
fried's inheritance.  Almost  forty  years  have  elapsed  since 
then,  and  the  volume  has  now  seen  the  light  of  publicity 
in  a  hundred  thousand  copies,  but  much  has  been  omitted. 
Just  to  please  my  mother,  he  read  us,  that  evening,  the  por- 
tion about  Othello  at  Magdeburg,  where  he  had  conducted, 
and  a  panic  had  arisen  because  the  audience  had  understood 
"fire"  instead  of  "further."  Then  followed  a  scene  from 
Konigsberg — or  was  it  Riga? — where  Wagner's  creditors,  late 
one  evening,  still  pressed  him  hard,  encircled  his  residence, 
forced  their  way  in,  and  he  had  to  escape  somehow  from  it 
or  save  himself  through  the  adjoining  house.  These  two 
scenes,  the  descriptions  of  which  we  remember  well,  are 
wanting  entirely  in  the  book  that  has  just  appeared.  This 
is  all  the  more  regrettable  because  an  excuse  may  be  found 
for  Minna  Planer  in  just  this  story,  for  her  flight  from  such 
sad  pecuniary  circumstances  that  must  have  been  crushing 
to  the  poor  woman,  who  loved  order,  and  whose  habit  of 
thought  was  perhaps  too  commonplace. 

Of  course,  we  had  the  most  of  Wagner  when  our  circle 
was  the  smallest.  When,  in  '76,  Bayreuth  opened  its  gates, 
not  only  to  the  artists  but  to  the  amateurs,  i.e.,  the  public, 
Wagner  divided  his  powers,  and  all  intimacy  was  over. 
Quite  against  his  will,  his  house  became  the  gathering  place 
of  the  aristocracy  and  the  influential  patrons.  After  the 
exhausting  rehearsals  we  artists  felt  ourselves  constrained 
to  make  conventional  conversation  with  people  who  were 
strangers  to  us,  or  to  reply  to  imbecile  questions  about  artistic 
matters.  There  was  no  feeling  of  totality,  nothing  inti- 
mate, the  deeper  sentiments  were  no  longer  in  control,  only 
the  external — curiosity  first  of  all.  "Wahnfried,"  of  course, 
could  not  remain  closed;  policy  required  that  consideration 
should  be  shown  those  who  helped  to  promote  the  enterprise, 
and  Frau  Cosima  took  these  duties  upon  herself  in  the  most 
self-sacrificing  way.  Moreover,  it  was  her  world,  in  which 
she  felt  herself  at  home.  Wagner  was  more  artist  than  any 


220  My  Path  Through  Life 

one  of  us,  and  felt  as  little  at  ease  as  did  we  in  the  almost 
exclusively  aristocratic  circle,  in  an  atmosphere  that  was 
fundamentally  different  from  his  and  our  way  of  thinking 
and  feeling. 

In  the  long  run,  the  compulsion  which  these  evenings 
gradually  brought  was  most  uncomfortable.  Although  I 
knew  the  whole  elegant  circle  very  well,  and  it  was  orna- 
mented by  many  an  individual  who  was  dear  to  me,  we  were 
too  fatigued  to  find  pleasure  there  permanently,  and  at  last 
we  stayed  away.  We  preferred  to  walk  about  alone  at  the 
Phantaisie  or  Hermitage,  and  to  meditate  upon  what  we 
considered  it  was  more  important  to  think  of.  Sometimes 
I  stood  below  by  the  waterworks,  while  my  sister  was  con- 
cealed above,  or  the  other  way  about;  one  sang  below  and 
the  other  gave  the  echo  above,  without  any  one  having  a 
suspicion  that  the  echo  was  "also  Lehmann. "  Professor 
Doepler,  the  elder,  gave  us  lectures  on  coquettish  Nature,  or 
else  on  his  art,  and,  in  short,  we  found  it  much  more  delight- 
ful out  there  than  in  the  constrained  society  where  we 
believed  we  were  not  indispensable. 

We  had  stayed  away,  however,  scarcely  three  nights  when 
the  day  of  judgment,  in  the  person  of  Wagner,  burst  upon 
us.  I  had  to  tell  him  in  reply  to  his  inquisitorial  question, 
why  we  remained  away — that  we  thought  ourselves  as 
superfluous  as  the  fifth  wheel  of  a  coach.  Wagner  was  beside 
himself;  I  believed  he  would  go  crazy.  He  besought  me 
not  to  think  that;  he  must  have  his  artists  about  him;  he 
would  see  to  it  that  we  should  feel  ourselves  the  first  and 
not  the  last.  If  I  had  believed  that  Wagner  would  not  be 
aware  of  our  absence  I  had  made  a  huge  mistake.  I  was 
extremely  grieved  that  I  had  brought  about  a  vexatious 
scene  for  him  and,  probably,  Frau  Cosima,  also,  who  came 
in  the  afternoon,  although  she  was  ill,  to  ask  us  to  pardon 
her,  as,  because  of  the  heavy  duties  that  lay  upon  her,  she 
had  not  looked  after  us.  That  I  knew,  and  had  never  dreamed 
that  she  ought  to  entertain  us.  I  was  compelled  to  give  her 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  221 

a  solemn  promise  always  to  go  there,  and  nothing  further 
disturbed  the  harmony  of  "Wahnfried. " 

There  were  many  nights  when  Liszt  charmed  us  by  his 
wonderful  playing.  A  miracle  happened  to  him  as  soon  as 
he  took  his  seat  at  the  piano.  A  veil  seemed  to  fall  from  his 
face,  revealing  to  the  spectator  a  very  different  picture,  the 
inner  spiritual  view  of  the  artist,  the  great  man.  So  he 
played  his  Rhapsodies,  and  created  tone  paintings,  in  which 
were  reflected  his  home,  his  heart,  and  his  elegant  person- 
ality. Around  him  stood  all  the  pretty  women,  about  whom 
he  spun,  who  enchained  him,  to  whom  he  threw  kisses, 
laughter,  regard,  and  love  in  tones,  with  whom  he  played  as 
with  children,  but  who  did  not  understand  him.  The  young 
Countess  Donhoff,  nee  Camporeale,  subsequently  Princess 
Bulow,  who  was  then  very  beautiful,  he  apostrophised,  when 
she  stood  at  the  lower  end  of  the  piano,  and  listened  to  his 
C  sharp  minor  Rhapsody.  He  paid  her,  inimitably,  his 
homage  of  admiration  in  the  F  sharp  major  movement 
with  the  four-lined  D  sharp  and  C  sharp  as  the  emphasised 
points.  They  all  coquetted  with  him,  and — shall  I  say  it? — 
he  with  them,  but  it  was  dear  and  kind  in  the  old  man; 
there  was  nothing  unpleasant  about  it.  His  playing  trans- 
figured his  external  appearance,  in  which  his  deepest  self 
was  then  reflected. 

Sometimes  I  sat  with  Friedrich  Nietzsche  in  some  quiet 
corner,  where  he  talked  to  me  of  Wagner's  great  learning, 
named  the  sources  from  which  he  drew,  and  became  ecstatic 
in  glorifying  Wagner,  although  he  spoke  quietly  and  softly 
with  me.  At  that  time  he  knew  nothing,  as  yet,  of  the 
"  wicked  old  magician  "  Wagner.  But,  unfortunately,  neither 
did  I  know  then  much  about  Nietzsche,  and  I  regret  that 
now  more  than  I  can  say. 

When  we  arrived  in  Bayreuth  on  June  3,  1876,  we  saw 
our  swimming  machine  for  the  first  time.  Good  Heavens ! 
It  was  a  heavy  triangular  contrivance — an  iron  pole  cer- 
tainly twenty  feet  high,  at  the  end  of  which  was  an  oblique 


222  My  Path  Through  Life 

frame  with  cross-bars,  and  in  that  we  were  to  be  put  and 
were  to  sing!  I  had  just  brought  upon  myself  bad  attacks 
of  giddiness  by  submitting  to  very  long  and  fatiguing  posings 
for  an  oil  portrait,  and  was  far  from  well,  so  I  absolutely 
declined  to  mount  the  apparatus.  After  coaxing  from  Carl 
Brandt,  the  old  master  machinist,  and  Fricke,  the  ballet- 
master,  Riezl,  brave  unto  death,  climbed  up  on  a  ladder, 
submitted  to  be  buckled  to  the  belt,  and  began  to  move  about 
as  directed  from  below.  I  could  not  let  myself  be  put  to 
shame,  so  I  climbed  up,  likewise.  I  was  soon  pleased  with 
it,  and  moved  myself,  first,  with  the  arms — the  entire  upper 
part  of  the  body  was  free,  there  was  nothing  one  could  take 
hold  of — then  with  the  body.  Finally  Minna  Lammert, 
also,  resolved  to  try  the  rehearsal  in  swimming,  and  now 
we  swam  and  sang  so  freely  up  there  that  it  was  a  pleasure. 
Wagner  pinched  us,  then,  with  tears  of  delight,  and 
Brandt,  too,  was  full  of  praise  for  our  bravery.  My 
vehicle  was  directed  by  Anton  Seidl,  Riezl's  by  Fischer,  and 
Lammert's  by  Mottl,  and  each  had,  also,  a  workman  belong- 
ing to  the  theatre  to  push  it,  and  an  extra  machinist,  so 
that  it  had  three  men  to  run  it.  And  it  was  dangerous 
enough.  The  first  great  scene  of  the  Rhine  maidens  was 
played  very  high  up;  the  carriages  ran  on  a  machine  cer- 
tainly twenty  feet  high,  that  rested  on  wooden  supports 
which  wobbled  back  and  forth.  As  soon  as  the  scene  was 
over,  the  three  carriages  were  quickly  shoved  into  different 
wings  on  extremely  small  wooden  platforms,  that  were 
only  just  large  enough  to  hold  the  apparatus.  Then  the 
big  platform  on  wheels  was  carried  off,  the  supports  under- 
neath were  removed, — some  were  taken  away  even  before  we 
were  pushed  aside, — and  only  when  the  whole  transforma- 
tion scene  was  accomplished,  and  Fricka  and  Wotan  were 
already  singing,  did  anybody  have  time  to  think  of  us  poor 
"strapped"  creatures.  A  ladder  was  made  fast  and  we, 
swinging  over  the  abyss,  had  now  to  get  ourselves  slowly  out 
of  the  superstructure  and  climb  down  the  ladder  behind 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  223 

us.  Only  from  the  platform  was  there  a  passable  stairway 
to  the  stage,  and  we  were  released  from  all  danger. 

One  evening,  just  as  I  was  being  pushed  on  to  the  plat- 
form, I  saw  that  young  Brandt  leaned  from  my  carriage  over 
the  shrinking,  sinking,  wheeled  structure  to  Riezl's  vehicle, 
because,  as  he  told  us,  the  latter,  but  for  his  help,  would 
have  fallen  down  into  the  abyss  below.  It  was  well  that 
we  did  not  know  all  the  dangers  or  we  should  never  have 
had  a  calm  moment  again. 

I  had  thought  out  all  manner  of  saucy  movements  that 
looked  well  from  the  machine,  and  felt  myself  at  ease  to  do 
all  that  I  proposed  to  do  with  my  body,  and  could  direct 
many  pretty  postures  with  my  sisters,  Wellgunde  and 
Flosshilde.  We  were  so  confident  that  we  really  believed 
ourselves  to  be  in  our  element.  Then  some  one  had  the 
horrible  idea  of  fastening  a  hidden  tail  over  wirework  to  our 
base  at  the  very  last  rehearsal,  the  constant  quivering 
movement  of  which  was  communicated,  not  only  to  the 
machine  but  to  us,  so  that  we  could  not  get  any  rest.  I 
can  hear  now  the  voice  of  Flosshilde  calling  out,  "Mottl, 
I'll  spit  on  your  head  if  you  don't  hold  me  quiet."  I  was 
prevented  from  twisting  and  turning  my  body  as  I  had 
planned  to  do  when  feeling  secure,  and  hence  many  of  the 
best  and  boldest  turns  fell  into  the  water.  My  peace  was 
gone,  I  never  recovered  it,  and  it  was  the  same  with  my 
lovely  sisters. 

Wagner  sat  on  the  stage  with  his  legs  crossed  and  the 
score  on  his  lap,  if  an  orchestral  piece  was  being  given,  or 
the  orchestra  rehearsed  alone.  He  conducted  for  himself, 
while  Hans  Richter  led  the  orchestra  below.  They,  indeed, 
began  together,  but  Wagner  was  so  lost  in  his  score  that  he 
did  not  follow  the  orchestra,  that  was  often  far  ahead  of  him, 
and  had  long  passed  on  to  other  tempi.  When,  at  last  he 
chanced  to  look  up,  he  perceived,  for  the  first  time?  that  it 
was  playing  something  quite  different  from  what  he  heard  with 
his  spiritual  ear.  Very  noteworthy  is  his  sentence  regarding 


224  My  Path  Through  Life 

any  metronomic  beat,  which  he  often  repeated  to  the  artist 
with  reference  to  all  melodic  phrases  of  single  instruments, 
"That  is  your  affair;  do  with  it  as  you  will." 

The  singers  saw  almost  nothing  of  the  conductor.  A 
black  cloth  was  nailed  behind  him  against  the  sounding- 
board,  so  that  Hans  Richter  and  his  white  shirt-sleeves  could 
be  found,  for  he  conducted  always  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  and 
drove  up  to  the  rehearsals  at  the  theatre,  whenever  he 
had  an  opportunity,  sitting  behind  a  yoke  of  oxen  in  the 
glowing  heat.  Everything  was  novel — the  immense  dis- 
tance the  conductor  was  from  the  stage,  and  the  lack  of  a 
prompter.  We  Rhine  maidens  did  not  need  one,  but  there 
were  many  others  who  required  one  all  the  more.  So 
prompters  of  all  kinds  arose  behind  every  piece  of  property 
and  in  every  wing.  I,  myself,  prompted  Siegmund-Nie- 
mann  in  the  Walkiire,  from  behind  the  fireplace,  if  he  was 
very  greatly  excited,  and  that  he  always  was  at  Bayreuth. 

During  the  intermissions  at  the  afternoon  rehearsals, 
we  ladies  sat  and  embroidered  the  costumes  or  made  flowers, 
just  as  we  Lehmanns  once  did  twenty  years  earlier  at 
Prague. 

Frau  Cosima  had  much  to  say  about  the  costumes  and 
many  other  details.  Wagner  and  she  were  very  often  of 
quite  opposite  opinions,  and  "  Wahnfried, "  not  infrequently, 
was  divided  into  two  parties,  and  especially  characterised 
by  Frau  Wagner's  ostentatious  protection  of  just  those 
artists  that  Wagner  described  as  "not  being  suitable"  for 
the  work.  But  he  yielded  on  small  points  in  the  end,  for 
the  sake  of  peace. 

Frau  Wagner  felt  much  gratitude  to  Amalie  Materna, 
and  she  arranged  a  delightful  garden  party  for  July  9,  1876, 
the  day  before  the  latter's  birthday. 

Each  of  those  taking  part  was  to  bring  a  rose  to  "  Mali, " 
which  she  accepted,  sitting  on  a  throne  of  roses.  First 
came  a  group  of  children,  then  the  artists,  and,  finally, 
Wagner  with  the  whole  orchestra.  There  were  illumina- 


^OZMMm*  WZZM^M 


«    .g 

M 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  225 

tions  in  the  garden,  moonlight  from  above,  Angermann's 
beer  on  tap,  buffet  supper,  and  fireworks. 

The  songs  of  the  Rhine  maidens  concluded  the  happy 
festival.  The  real  birthday  celebration  followed  this  on 
July  loth,  in  the  evening,  at  the  "Sonne, "  for  which  exten- 
sive preparations  had  been  made.  A  small  booth  had  been 
erected  in  the  garden  to  serve  as  a  stage,  lighted  by  smoky 
oil  lamps,  and  hung  with  the  collective  linen  sheets  belong- 
ing to  the  inn,  and  with  Mali's  nightgowns  and  wrappers 
for  draperies.  The  programme  was  a  varied  one.  The 
orchestra  consisted  of  an  upright  piano  and  a  bass  drum, 
upon  which  Mottl  and  Hermann  Levi  accompanied  the 
performers,  according  to  what  was  required.  Riezl  sang 
the  Mansfeld  Schnadahupfeln  to  Mottl's  accompaniment; 
Friedrich,  Mali's  husband,  declaimed  Der  Radi  und  die 
gelbe  Ruabn  by  Grunbaum,  and  I  danced  with  ballet- 
master  Fricke,  of  Dessau,  a  "Pas  de  Bouquet,"  that  made  a 
sensation,  but  from  which  we  got  a  thousandfold  more  fun 
at  the  many  rehearsals,  as  the  excitement  of  being  before  an 
audience  affected  my  ballet  graces  to  some  extent.  Mali's 
maid  had  cooked  some  superb  goulash  with  noodles,  and 
Friedrich  had  ordered  a  huge  barrel  of  Pilsener  beer  sent 
direct.  More  than  forty  persons  took  part,  not  including 
Wagner,  who  was  quite  spent  from  the  fearful  rehearsals. 
But  he  was  right  when  he  said:  "We  artists  are  an  exploded 
band;  such  an  evening  and  such  a  gathering  are  completely 
incomprehensible  to  others,  and  will  be  wrongly  judged  by 
those  who  have  not  participated.  Therefore  it  is  best  that 
we  should  keep  to  ourselves." 

Serio-comic,  and,  at  the  same  time,  cheerful  was  the 
introduction  of  the  dog  tax,  newly  imposed.  It  was  sad, 
because  hosts  of  animals  fell  into  the  hands  of  common 
flayers;  one  met  whole  cart-loads  of  these,  men's  truest 
friends,  of  whom  only  a  few  were  saved.  Dear  Wilhelmy, 
who  was  a  lover  of  men  and  animals,  partly  bought  and 
partly  withheld  from  the  flayers  countless  dogs  that  he 

15 


226  My  Path  Through  Life 

apportioned  amongst  the  singers  and  members  of  the  chorus 
and  orchestra,  compelling  them  all  to  take  at  least  one  sample 
which  he  knew  how  to  find  any  day  and  at  any  hour.  He 
gave  three  marks  for  those  he  bought,  and,  without  counting 
those  he  drove  off,  he  must  have  paid  out  a  fortune.  There 
were  often  from  thirty  to  forty  dogs  tied  outside  the  theatre 
during  the  orchestra  rehearsal,  and  one  can  hardly  have  a 
conception  of  the  happy  uproar,  when  the  rehearsal  was  over, 
and  each  owner  released  his  dog  again.  I,  too,  had  bought 
a  "  Mime"  for  three  marks  from  Wilhelmy,  in  addition  to  our 
"Petze  Lehmann, "  who  went  off  into  an  ecstasy  at  every 
"  Hojotoho"  call,  but  which  I  was  relieved  of  soon  by  Richter, 
the  tenor,  at  Nurnberg,  although  I  parted  from  him  unwil- 
lingly, as  the  animal  attached  himself  to  me  from  the  first 
second  with  touching  affection. 

Mali  also  had  a  Pintscher,  which  she  carried  about  with 
her  for  years  on  all  her  travels.  Once  when  we  were  off  with 
"Petz"  on  a  country  excursion  to  the  Rote  Main,  Riez, 
sent  the  dog  down  the  rather  steep  shore  into  the  water, 
where  he  suddenly  disappeared.  We  were  beside  ourselves; 
Riezl  entreated  Mottl  to  go  to  the  rescue.  He  did  not  pause 
to  reflect,  but  leaped  into  the  river,  and  finally  discovered 
Petz,  after  a  long,  vain  search,  hanging  to  a  willow,  caught 
fast.  He  brought  the  poor  fellow  safely  to  land;  a  deed 
for  which  we  could  never  thank  Mottl  enough.  Then  Petz 
hurt  his  paw  by  jumping  from  the  first  story,  as  he  heard  me 
call  Hojotoho  in  the  street;  and,  at  Scharfling  on  the  Mond- 
see,  he  lost  an  eye  in  a  fight  over  a  bone,  and  died  at  the  age 
of  fourteen  from  the  kick  of  a  vulgar  man,  as  the  maid  had 
thoughtlessly  let  him  out  on  the  street  alone.  His  tempera- 
ment continually  endangered  his  life  and  our  peace,  until 
his  death  put  an  end  to  this  unpleasant  state  of  things. 

The  King  arrived  in  the  night  before  August  6th,  and  he 
drove  to  the  Hermitage  in  a  closed  carriage.  On  the  even- 
ing of  the  6th  he  was  present,  with  Wagner  alone,  in  the 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  227 

Princes'  box  at  the  general  rehearsal  of  Rheingold,  and  then 
drove  in  a  closed  carriage,  and,  I  believe,  even  with  the 
curtains  drawn,  through  the  illuminated  city,  back  again  to 
the  Hermitage,  accompanied  by  Wagner.  The  King  sent 
his  thanks  by  letter  to  Wagner  the  very  next  morning,  and, 
after  the  Walkiire  rehearsal  in  the  evening,  he  seemed  in  an 
especially  good  humour  and  very  enthusiastic.  Niemann- 
Siegmund  gripped  him,  and  Wagner  went  on  the  stage, 
even  after  the  first  act,  to  weep  on  Niemann's  neck.  Nie- 
mann,  as  Siegmund,  had  created  the  Siegmund,  affecting 
and  grand,  that  Wagner  had  put  in  poetry  and  music. 

Never  again  have  I  heard  and  seen  a  Siegmund  equal  to 
him;  all  the  rest  may  as  well  let  themselves  be  buried — I 
do  not  care  if  I  offend  them  by  saying  it.  The  intellectual 
power,  the  physical  force,  the  incomparable  expression  were 
all  glorious  beyond  words  to  relate.  His  first  step  already 
foretold  his  fate;  the  narrative  contained  in  it  the  prophecy 
of  death.  Disaster,  love,  sorrow,  greatness,  all  stood  on  the 
loftiest  artistic  heights  in  their  expression.  Singing  and 
acting,  appearance,  and  mastery  of  every  detail  of  artistic 
technique  which  was  concentrated  in  his  pantomime,  all  this 
combined,  Niemann  gave  us,  and  took  every  one,  every  soul 
captive.  From  a  full  heart  and  before  all  the  world  must  we 
thank  him  for  this  gift,  this  Siegmund,  that  was  unique,  and 
will  no  more  return  than  will  another  Wagner. 

Vogl's  Loge,  also,  has  never  been  equalled;  he  was  a  born 
Loge.  Acuteness,  scorn,  wit,  envy,  his  exaggerated  accent, 
that  was  specially  suited  for  just  this  r61e,  and  that  sounded 
not  merely  sharp  but  both  sharp  and  biting,  together  with 
his  incredible  musical  certainty  combined  to  give  the  picture 
of  the  perfect  original  Loge.  He  harvested  the  first  applause. 

The  very  characteristic  Alberich  of  Hill,  who  succeeded, 
in  the  curse,  in  expressing  the  quintessence  of  bitterness,  was 
only  approached  for  me  once  by  Schelper  and  Haydter  of 
Vienna,  although  the  latter  did  not  quite  reach  the  highest 
mark.  Frau  Jaide's  Waltraute,  Erda,  and  fabulous  Wala 


228  My  Path  Through  Life 

were  never  equalled  in  the  many  productions  that  I  have  ever 
seen.  Oh,  how  deeply  are  her  mighty  expressions  engraved 
on  my  memory.  The  Wala  scene  in  Siegfried,  as  played  by 
that  orchestra  and  sung  by  Betz  and  Jaide,  certainly  be- 
longed for  me  amongst  the  greatest  and  most  enduring 
impressions  of  the  Bayreuth  of  1876. 

Next  to  Hans  Richter,  who  accomplished  an  almost 
incredible  task  with  complete  devotion  to  Wagner,  his  works, 
his  success,  and  his  family,  and  who  could  never  labour 
sufficiently  with  ever  fresh  love  and  pleasure,  it  was  assuredly 
Amalie  Materna  upon  whom  the  heaviest  work  was  laid. 
Though  she  possessed  the  tremendous  voice  power  required 
for  the  three  Brunhildes,  yet  the  text,  language,  style,  and 
the  kind  of  acting  were  entirely  strange  to  her,  and  made 
almost  higher  demands  upon  the  artist  than  the  music 
itself.  There  was  danger  in  undergoing  such  intellectual 
and  physical  exertions  for  months  at  a  time,  and  it  must  be 
deemed  a  miracle  that  she  did  not  break  down  under  the 
weight  of  all  these  combined  strains  upon  her.  Now  these 
Brunhildes  have  turned  into  flesh  and  blood,  and,  through 
habit  and  knowledge,  have  become  child's  play  as  compared 
with  those  days. 

We  Rhine  daughters,  also,  did  our  share.  We  were 
audacious  and  laughed  and  joked,  only  to  be  all  the  more 
serious  in  the  prediction  made  to  Siegfried  in  the  Gotter- 
ddmmerung.  Moreover,  I  cannot  forbear  to  mention  again 
that  I  always  sang  in  the  Rheingold  after  my  part,  "Nur 
wer  der  Minne  Macht  /  entsagt,"  and  never  "versagt,"  as 
I  always  had  to  hear  it  rendered  subsequently.  I  called 
Conductor  Levi's  attention,  also,  to  this,  when  he,  in  1884  at 
Munich,  desired  me  to  sing  "versagt"  instead  of  "entsagt." 
Wagner,  before  whom  I  sang  it  hundreds  of  times,  would 
certainly  have  corrected  me  if  he  had  desired  it  otherwise. 
The  composition,  also,  witnesses  against  it,  for  it  does  not 
read,  "Nurwer  der  Minne /Macht  versagt,"  but,  "Nur  wer 
der  Minne  Macht  /  entsagt."  The  pause  of  an  eighth  comes 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  229 

before  "entsagt"  and  not  before  "Macht,"  as  it  otherwise 
should  be.  And  I  wish  to  draw  attention  here  to  a  second 
error,  which  is  that,  under  Wagner,  in  the  Gotterddmmerung, 
we  never  sang  in  unison  the  phrase,  "Sag*  es,  Siegfried,  sag* 
es  uns. "  I  should  like  to  know  who  originated  the  change. 

At  all  events,  I  have,  also,  never  since  seen  or  heard  the 
Rhine  maidens  so  happy,  serene,  laughing,  and  serious,  so 
much  in  their  element.  With  what  emotions  did  we  go  to  our 
work!  We  did  what  we  could  out  of  love  for  Wagner,  ex- 
pended all  our  ability,  all  our  talents,  and  brought  to  it 
complete  understanding  of  his  gigantic  creation.  We  put  our 
hearts  into  every  word  and  tone,  which  demonstrated  our 
devotion. 

If  we  add  Gura  as  a  really  wonderful  Gunther,  who 
invested  the  part  with  nobility,  dramatic  value,  and  vocal 
beauty  that  could  not  be  surpassed  artistically,  and  Schlos- 
ser's  excellent  Mime;  the  simply  divine  orchestra,  from  out 
of  which  we  think  we  still  hear  to-day  Wilhelmy's  magic 
Rheingold  tones,  and  the  admirable  chorus,  we  have  ended 
with  the  most  eminent  features  of  the  performances  of  the  Bay- 
reuth of  1876.  It  was  boundless  love  for  Wagner  that  made 
possible  then  what  no  one  else  could  have  asked  of  the  artists. 

As  Wagner  entered  the  theatre  on  August  I,  1875  (we 
had  been  waiting  a  long  time  for  him),  the  Valhalla  motif 
sounded  forth,  played  by  the  mighty  orchestra,  and  Betz- 
Wotan  sang  in  his  glorious  voice  and  with  his  great  art, 

Achieved  is  the  wonderful  work! 

On  the  mountain  crest, 

In  its  might  majestic 

Rises  the  heavenly 

Home  of  the  gods! 

As  in  my  dreams  I  dreamt  it, 

Such  as  it  was  in  my  will: — 

Strong  and  fair, 

Resplendent  to  view, 

Lofty,  lordliest  bourg! 


230  My  Path  Through  Life 

It  was  a  thrilling  moment.  Wagner  had  no  time,  however, 
to  be  thrilled;  he  walked  up  to  the  orchestra  from  the  par- 
quet, and  called  out  enthusiastically,  "I  have  won  my  suit; 
the  acoustics  are  excellent ! ' '  He  thanked  all  that  had  shared 
with  him  in  the  pleasure  of  creating  the  difficult  work,  and 
he  emphasised  that  this  was  a  work  of  art  of  great  signifi- 
cance, and  not  a  mere  banal  and  extravagant  project. 

That  Wagner  had  to  give  up  Scaria  as  Hagen  was  very 
detrimental  to  the  undertaking,  for  he  would  have  been 
unlike  any  one  else.  It  had  to  be  done  because  of  Scaria' s 
enormous  demands;  the  expenses  were  enough  without  that. 
Niemann,  Betz,  my  sister  and  I  sang  for  nothing,  and  we 
would  gladly  have  done  still  more  for  him  if  we  had  then 
been  in  a  position  to  do  so,  or  could  have  looked  into  the 
future.  But  we  four  were  the  only  idealists,  and  all  the 
others  accepted  pay. 

Our  Walkure  scenes  went  finely.  Frau  Jachmann- 
Wagner,  Wagner's  famous  niece,  whom  I  had  known  in 
Berlin,  where  she  was  still  active  as  an  actress  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  seventies,  but  who  was  less  noted  for  that  than 
as  a  singer,  was  our  leader.  We  worked  out  many  attitudes 
with  her,  and  represented  them  as  boldly  as  possible.  We 
had  accomplished  much,  while  we  were  there,  and  Wagner, 
who  laboured  with  everybody  else,  performed  wonders;  he 
was  often  very  much  used  up  and  ill.  But  physical  suffering 
disappeared  in  the  thousand  exigencies  which  the  colossal 
enterprise  brought  with  it,  until,  finally,  the  height  was 
climbed  and  the  performances  began. 

After  the  first  Walkure  evening,  Wagner  assembled  us 
all  on  the  stage.  The  audience  shouted  and  stormed  outside, 
but  we  stood  in  a  small  circle  around  the  great  master,  who 
overwhelmed  us  with  his  thanks,  expressed  in  glowing  words, 
for  all  our  trouble  and  success;  he  was  greatly  agitated. 
Wagner  kissed  us,  and  we  were  in  a  solemn  mood.  Niemann, 
who  happened  to  stand  next  to  me,  was  overcome  by  emo- 
tion, something  which  I  saw  only  this  once  in  him,  and  al- 


Marie  Lehmann  Lilli  Lehmann 

(Ortlinde)  (Helmwiege) 

in  Waliure 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  Albert,  Munchen,  taken  in  1876 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  231 

though  we  were  still  at  variance — ever  since  the  trouble  over 
Rienzi — he  embraced  me  impulsively  and  kissed  me.  He 
would  indeed  have  kissed  any  other  person,  in  that  great 
moment,  who  might  have  chanced  to  stand  next  him.  At 
the  same  instant  the  stage  door  opened,  and  Frau  Hedwig 
Niemann-Raabe  cried  out,  "Oh,  Albert!"  shut  the  door 
again,  and  away  she  went.  The  little  woman  and  great  artist 
had  always  been  jealous  of  me,  and  continued  so  even  when 
we  became  intimate  friends  later  on,  using  the  closely  per- 
sonal "du"  between  us,  and  after  we  had  given  each  other 
proofs  of  the  truest  friendship.  Of  course  I  always  laughed 
at  her,  but  she  insisted  afterwards  as  before  that,  "she 
nevertheless  was  still  always  jealous  of  me." 

Although  a  hall  had  already  been  added  to  the  "Sonne" 
for  the  expected  visitors,  yet  we  artists  continued  in  posses- 
sion of  the  small  saloon,  in  which  we  gathered  for  the  midday 
dinner,  and  to  which  were  admitted  only  a  few  chosen  ones, 
as  for  instance,  Count  and  Countess  Danckelmann.  There 
it  was  always  lively,  and  every  dinner  ended  with  Mottl, 
dressed  as  a  lady,  in  Mali's  gowns,  hat  and  veil,  going  across 
the  street  to  get  chocolate  cream  cakes  (Mohrenkopfe), 
which  was  the  treat  of  each  person  in  turn.  Some  of  the 
Valkyries  paid  visits,  now  and  then,  to  the  "Nibelungen 
chancery,"  and  I,  too,  had  once  flown  so  high,  into  the 
remotest  part  of  Bayreuth.  A  letter  addressed  to  me  by 
Anton  Seidl  was  a  consequence  of  this  visit,  and  is  good 
evidence  of  the  prevailing  tone  of  Bayreuth  in  those  days. 

BAYREUTH,  July  20,  1876. 

ESTEEMED  FRAULEIN! 

I  hope  you  will  pardon  me  for  disturbing  your  artistic  activity 
with  something  profane,  that  is,  with  a  lady's  umbrella  which  was 
left  with  me.  It  hangs  in  the  coffee  room  of  our  Nibelungen 
chancery  palace,  and  stares  at  us  with  its  golden  chain  at  the 
handle,  and  its  lilac  silk  lining  in  the  body.  We  heard  only 
recently  the  tidings  of  its  existence,  for  it  was  reported  to  us  that 


232  My  Path  Through  Life 

in  the  forest  of  fir  trees  in  our  coffee  room  the  stallion  (my  um- 
brella) kicked  the  blue  mare.  Who  is  the  Valkyrie  who  is  able 
to  do  that?  Or  was  it  Woglinde,  Welgunde,  or  Flosshilde  who 
scorned  the  rough  companion? 

Information  will  be  acceptable  to 

Your  respectful  and  devoted, 

ANTON  SEIDL. 

We  used  to  take  our  supper,  after  protracted  evening 
rehearsals,  at  the  little  restaurant,  to  the  left  of  the  Wagner 
Theatre.  As  soon  as  we  were  somewhat  strengthened  and 
recovered,  we  went  out  on  the  veranda,  shoved  the  piano  out 
there,  extinguished  the  gas-lights,  and  then  the  twenty-year- 
old  Mottl,  with  his  great  talent  and  his  charming  voice, 
played  and  sang  for  us  the  whole  of  Tristan  from  memory. 
Wrapt  in  darkness  and  undisturbed,  we  listened  and  lost  our- 
selves in  the  lofty  enjoyment  of  these  consecrated  and  fas- 
cinating hours,  freed  from  all  the  world,  and  even  from  the 
Ring.  The  magic  of  Tristan  worked  superhumanly. 

In  the  spring  of  '76  Tristan  was  brought  out  in  Berlin. 
Wagner  rehearsed  it  there  in  the  midst  of  his  immense  tasks 
and  the  preparations  for  the  Ring.  He  was  not  thanked 
for  it.  The  success  of  it  was  far  behind  our  expectations, 
for  the  Berlin  public  was  not  nearly  ripe  for  it,  that  is,  they 
were  not  sufficiently  prepared  to  be  able  to  appreciate  at  all 
the  grandeur  and  exalted  nature  of  this  unique  musical 
language.  The  production,  in  parts,  could  not  be  surpassed. 
Niemann,  as  Tristan,  was  certainly  the  most  sublime  figure 
that  has  ever  appeared  in  the  sphere  of  the  music  drama. 
Frau  von  Voggenhuber,  also,  did  wonderfully  well  for  that 
time,  for  was  not  everything  connected  with  the  work 
entirely  strange  to  her?  Marianne  Brandt  as  Brangane, 
and  Betz  as  Mark,  were  splendid,  while  the  orchestra,  under 
Eckert,  who  conducted  the  wonderful  work  in  a  broad  style, 
was  excellent.  Nothing  was  wanting  but  the  full  under- 
standing of  the  listeners. 

When  Tristan  was  first  given  at  Weimar,  Richard  Wag- 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  233 

ner's  style,  music,  and  language  were  still  quite  new  and, 
strange  to  most  singers.  It  will  always  remain  so,  indeed, 
in  a  certain  degree  to  the  foreigner.  It  is  no  wonder  that  the 
artists  of  that  time  went  almost  crazy  when  they  were 
studying  their  roles;  or  that  Schnorr  von  Carolsfeld,  the 
first  Tristan,  suffered  much  from  it,  as  is  reported, 
although  he  himself  did  not  say  so,  while  Ander  at  Vienna 
could  not  sing  it  at  all. 

The  strangeness  of  the  language,  the  rhetoric  that  had 
never  before  been  applied,  the  compass  of  the  r61es,  exceed- 
ing anything  ever  known,  the  excessive  strain  on  the  memory, 
— all  this  must  have  exerted  a  bad  influence  on  those  artists 
who  faced  their  tasks  unprepared.  It  is  no  wonder  that  the 
public,  also,  did  not  comprehend  what  was  comprehensible 
to  it  only  after  Wagner's  death.  Frau  von  Voggenhuber 
had  made  an  agreement  that  she  should  be  free  a  week 
before  and  a  week  after  each  Tristan  performance,  while 
Vogl  and  I,  in  1890,  sang  the  two  parts  three  times  in  six 
days  in  New  York.  The  repertoire  was  arranged  without 
consulting  us,  and,  as  every  seat  was  sold,  neither  of  us  had 
the  heart  to  refuse  to  appear. 

In  Berlin,  I  did  not  miss  a  single  rehearsal  or  performance. 
A  musician  told  me  that,  at  one  of  the  first  orchestra  re- 
hearsals, much  fun  was  made  of  "the  shepherd's  tune";  he 
called  it  "a  never-ending,  tedious  English  horn  solo  that 
puts  one  to  sleep."  And  how  deeply  had  just  this  very 
"Weise"  taken  hold  of  me,  and  tugged  at  my  heart  when  I 
heard  it  for  the  first  time.  I  listened  with  closed  eyes  to  the 
magical  harmonies  of  the  second  act,  and  I  opened  them 
only  when  Niemann-Tristan  began  the  third  act.  It  was 
a  revelation  of  the  poem  and  of  the  music  drama. 

At  Berlin,  in  those  days,  and  also  at  Bayreuth  in  1875-76, 
the  Isolde  always  seemed  to  me  to  sing  with  too  much 
reserve.  But  my  inner  wings  had  already  stretched  them- 
selves towards  her;  I  had  worked  over  the  words  and  music 
within  myself:  I  stood  before  the  great  task  not  unprepared, 


234  My  Path  Through  Life 

as  I  made  it  quite  my  own,  and  could  finally  reproduce  it 
with  all  my  recollections  of  mighty  impressions  and  models. 
But  how  much  lay  between!  Love,  sorrow,  disappoint- 
ments, illness,  the  death  of  my  beloved  ones,  endless  grief, 
and  all  the  other  experiences  that  are  able  to  forge  out  of  the 
heart  of  a  simple  girl  the  completed  soul  of  an  artist.  If 
only  this  transformation  did  not  hurt  the  poor  heart  so 
much.  It  is  tortured  and  trodden  under  foot,  and,  if  this 
does  not  destroy  it,  and  it  is  still  able  to  accomplish  some- 
thing after  all  this  suffering,  it  must  possess  the  element  of 
greatness,  that  must  have  been  allotted  to  it  as  a  compensa- 
tion for  that  which  it  has  endured. 

Bayreuth  now  harboured  all  those  that  were  concerned 
with  music,  that  interested  themselves  in  it,  and  those  who 
acted  as  though  they  understood  something  of  it,  or  as 
though  they  were  protectors  of  art.  There  were  many 
lovable  and  unlovable  persons  of  all  sorts,  as  is  apt  to  be  the 
case.  We  were  compelled  to  give  up  our  morning  practis- 
ings  at  the  "Sonne, "  that  really  still  took  place  only  to 
please  the  Donhoffs,  Count  and  Countess  Danckelmann, 
Cuno  Moltke,  and  Major  von  Rabe,  who  was  one  of  the 
few  genuine  music-worshippers  and  our  true  friend.  One 
avoided,  according  to  his  ability,  very  frequent  meetings, 
and  moreover  they  occurred  at  the  theatre,  at  Wagner's, 
or  at  general  assemblages.  Even  Hulsen  came  for  the  Ring, 
and  was  to  meet  Wagner  the  evening  before  at  a  reception 
at  "Wahnfried. "  Both  men  were  somewhat  embarrassed 
over  the  first  meeting,  and  Hulsen  begged  me  to  stand  by 
him,  which  was  very  agreeable  to  Wagner,  likewise,  as  I 
noticed.  All  went  much  better  than  we  had  feared.  Hulsen  of 
course,  did  not  want  to  know  anything  about  the  whole  Ring; 
he  was  thinking  of  producing  only  the  Walkure,  which  was  re- 
fused him  as  well  as  all  others.  Whether  that  was  for  Wagner's 
best  interest  I  cannot  judge,  but  I  think  that  the  other  works 
belonging  to  the  Ring  would  then  have  been  given  also. 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  235 

A  brilliant  circle  had  assembled  to  take  up  the  work  or 
to  censure  it.  Men  of  great  intellectual  importance,  musi- 
cians, painters,  architects,  crowned  heads,  princes,  counts, 
lords,  and  ladies  met  every  night  at  "Wahnfried. "  This 
"holding  court"  went  against  Wagner's  artistic  sensibility, 
and  made  him  weary  and  unhappy,  but  it  offered  Frau 
Cosima  the  opportunity  to  unfold  her  brilliant  intellectual 
and  social  qualities  and  to  let  them  shine.  The  credit 
certainly  belongs  to  her  that  these  "meetings"  between 
Wagner  and  "le  monde"  passed  off  without  too  much  fric- 
tion. But  it  was  chiefly  interesting  for  the  entirely  detached 
spectator. 

Count  and  Countess  Schleinitz  gave  as  cosy  teas  at  their 
private  residence  as  at  the  Ministry  in  Berlin,  where  the 
guest,  in  the  midst  of  elegant  ease  and  surrounded  by  a  select 
crowd,  always  had  a  sense  of  well-being.  Next  to  the  King 
of  Bavaria  and  the  artists,  it  was  principally  the  Countess 
who  deserved  the  greatest  credit  for  the  success  of  Bayreuth. 

Just  as  the  great  famine  broke  out  in  Bayreuth — it  was 
during  the  second  cycle — we  were  invited  by  the  Grand  Duke 
and  Grand  Duchess  of  Mecklenburg-Schwerin  to  a  soiree. 
The  Grand  Duke,  who  escorted  me,  assured  me  that  there 
was  actually  nothing  left  to  eat  in  Bayreuth,  but  he  had 
taken  care  that  we  should  not  go  hungry.  Besides  the 
Grand  Duchess  Marie,  her  daughter,  the  Grand  Duchess 
Paulowna  was  present,  enveloped  in  beauty  and  charm,  as 
well  as  several  other  ladies  and  gentlemen  belonging  to  the 
family.  The  Grand  Ducal  couple  were  refreshingly  amiable, 
and  we  laughed,  joked,  and  amused  ourselves  capitally, 
and,  as  we  finally,  still  "masked,"  let  ourselves  go  in  our 
Rhine  maidens  trio,  in  which  the  universally  honoured 
Alois  Schmidt  accompanied  us,  we  were  overwhelmed  with 
thanks.  We  took  our  departure  very  late  after  an  evening 
that  had  been  spent  so  happily  and  fortunately,  which  we 
had  enjoyed  in  such  very  select  company,  and  of  which  we 
long  retained  a  vivid  recollection. 


236  My  Path  Through  Life 

From  the  very  beginning  of  the  beautiful  Bayreuth  period 
Hill,  Betz,  Eilers,  Mottl,  and  we  three  Rhine  maidens  had 
joined  in  studying  mixed  quartets  of  Mendelssohn,  together 
with  some  melodically  beautiful  ones  of  Spohr,  that  we  sang 
for  our  personal  pleasure  whenever  we  were  by  ourselves. 
One  day  a  giant  picnic  was  arranged  for  the  soloists  by 
Scaria  and  Friedrich  at  Berneck,  whither  we  drove  in  six  or 
eight  huge,  covered  farm  waggons  with  abundant  food  and 
drink  and  games — even  ice  was  taken.  On  the  way,  the 
gaiety  of  the  "Impresarii"  became  contagious,  and  I  still 
marvel  that  we  ever  reached  Berneck  at  all.  As  soon  as  we 
had  unpacked  at  the  camping  place  it  began  to  rain  in  floods, 
which  did  not  detract  from  our  cheerfulness,  and  nothing 
lessened  our  jollity.  Arm-in-arm  with  Wotan-Betz  who 
spread  an  umbrella  protectingly  over  me,  Mottl  and  Lam- 
mert,  who  had  no  umbrella  with  them,  squatting  under  a 
big  pile  of  wood,  Riezl  with  several  others  under  the  table, 
we  sang,  in  emulation  with  the  forest  birds,  our  quartets  to 
the  praise  of  God  and  His  glory.  A  wonderful  evening  in- 
demnified us  for  the  injustice  of  the  weather,  arousing  new 
cheerfulness  and  causing  all  hardships  to  be  forgotten. 

A  favourable  opportunity  soon  offered  to  make  use  of 
our  beautifully  studied  quartets  in  other  ways.  While 
King  Ludwig  was  staying  in  Bayreuth  during  the  general 
rehearsal,  we  resolved  to  give  him  the  expression  of  our 
veneration  and  gratitude  in  the  form  of  a  serenade.  Upon 
enquiry  at  the  office  of  the  Marshal  of  the  Royal  Household, 
we  were  informed  that  His  Majesty  would  be  pleased  to 
accept  the  homage.  After  the  general  rehearsal  of  Siegfried, 
Betz,  Hill,  Mottl,  and  we  three  Rhine  maidens  drove  to  the 
Hermitage,  even  before  the  King  had  left  the  theatre,  or 
rather  we  first  went  to  Rollwenzel,  that  is  located  half-way, 
alighted  and  repaired  to  a  dark  room,  where,  by  the  aid  of 
a  candle  held  in  the  dark,  we  rehearsed  several  pieces  rapidly. 
No  light  might  be  seen  from  outside  when  the  King  drove  by, 
and  we  had  to  let  him  pass  before  we  might  follow  him. 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  237 

Everything  had  to  be  done  secretly,  so  that  the  King  would 
notice  nothing.  It  must  have  been  eleven  o'clock  at  night 
before  we  arrived  at  the  Hermitage.  We  waited  for  some 
one  to  conduct  us  to  a  little  thicket,  where,  concealed  by  a 
Spanish  wall,  we  began  to  sing  by  the  light  of  small  dark 
lanterns.  The  King  was  walking  up  and  down  not  far  away 
from  us ;  near  him  stood  a  table  with  a  lamp,  where  he  per- 
haps had  taken  his  supper ;  otherwise  there  was  a  deathlike 
stillness  in  the  wonderful  garden,  which  was  brightly  illumi- 
nated by  the  moon.  Noiselessly  as  we  had  come  we  crept 
away  again;  our  hearts  thumping  as  though  we  were  going 
to  the  scaffold.  I  recall  that  Riezl  was  half  fainting  from 
excitement.  The  King,  however,  sent  us  his  hearty  thanks, 
and  said  how  much  delighted  he  had  been  with  our  beautiful 
singing. 

Wagner  told  me  that  the  King  had  intended  to  distin- 
guish me  with  an  order.  But  as  he,  with  fine  sensibility, 
was  unwilling  to  offend  any  of  the  other  artists,  this  was  not 
done ;  but  he  decided,  according  to  my  feeling,  upon  a  much 
greater  distinction,  for  he  sent  us  a  large  portrait  of  himself 
with  his  signature.  I  can  still  see  before  me  the  handsome 
and  remarkable  man  and  monarch,  and  am  reminded  by  it 
of  the  many  things  that  Wagner  told  me  about  him;  how  he 
often,  at  first,  exhibited  great  confidence  in  the  world  and 
in  men,  and  how  often  these  same  men  abused  his  trust  and 
his  kindness  in  the  most  shameful  way.  Thus  he  became 
the  unsociable  man  and  King,  as  we  then  saw  him  in  Bayreuth 
in  1876,  or,  indeed,  guessed  at  him  rather.  For  when  he 
hurried  by  in  a  closed  carriage  with  curtains,  or  sat  in  the 
dark  Princes'  box  in  the  dark  theatre,  no  one  could  speak 
of  "having  seen  him,"  no  matter  what  glasses  were  used. 
I  never  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  him  again. 

Just  as  my  heart  beat  then  before  King  Ludwig  at  the 
general  rehearsal,  so  did  it  beat  at  the  initial  notes  of  the 
Rheingold  at  the  first  performance,  as  it  began  to  sound  and 
to  rustle  down  below,  and  I  had  to  let  my  voice  ring  out 


238  My  Path  Through  Life 

suddenly — the  first  tones  of  a  human  voice  in  the  magic 
realm  of  the  Rhine.  It  was  a  glorious  moment,  that  cost 
me  much  anxiety  and  agitation.  Others  have  written  about 
the  performances,  who  judged  them  from  the  view-point  of 
the  audience,  the  spectator,  or  the  hearer,  but  what  I  have 
related  here  about  Bayreuth  is  intimate  matter,  that  affected 
my  life  or  my  heart. 

The  summit  was  reached  in  the  first  performances; 
nothing  more  could  occur  to  heighten  our  ecstasy,  or,  as  one 
might  say  boldly,  the  paroxysm  of  our  nerves.  Not  a  single 
tone  more  was  required  to  make  us  feel  that  mankind  may 
not  wander  under  palm  trees  with  impunity,  that  the  un- 
mixed pleasure  of  art  is  allotted  to  no  mortal  being.  We 
experienced  the  latter  even  at  the  big  banquet  that  Wagner 
gave,  in  honour  of  his  artists  only,  at  the  theatre  res- 
taurant, where  uninvited  persons  and  elements  of  the  worst 
kind  had  sneaked  into  places.  It  left  a  bad  impression 
behind.  Toasts  were  proposed  that  caused  discord.  The 
last  days  were  no  longer  beautiful.  We  had  gone  through 
too  much  that  was  grand,  to  be  able  to  endure  mere  human 
moderation.  We  yearned  for  rest  after  emotion  that  had 
been  so  long  on  the  stretch,  and  in  the  pleasures  of  memory 
what  had  been  experienced  and  enjoyed  first  became  clear. 
That  which  had  transcended  all  our  forces  lay  now  behind  us 
like  a  dream.  How  it  was  with  Wagner,  the  creator  of  all 
this — I  felt  deep  sympathy  with  him — is  told  us  in  a  dear 
letter  that  he  wrote  me  after  the  conclusion  of  the  perform- 
ances. I  insert  it  here,  as  the  keystone  to  his  memory,  in 
which  his  great  heart,  full  of  gratitude,  reveals  itself,  causing 
mine  to  beat  reciprocally  in  love  and  profoundest  gratitude. 

XIV 

(Without  Date,  after  the  Festivals  of  1876) 

Oh,  Lilli!Lilli!— 

You  were  the  most  beautiful  of  all,  and — you  are  right,  dear 
child — it  will  never  come  again. 


Bayreuth,  1875,  1876  239 

That  was  the  magic  of  it  all,  my  Rhine  maidens !  Fidi  sings 
their  melodies  continually. 

"Gebt  uns  das  Reine  zuruck!" — 

Greetings  to  Marie ;  she  is  so  good.  Great  God,  how  good  you 
both  were ! 

Ah,  how  lovely,  how  good  you  were!  And  now!  Not  even 
the  after  play  was  granted  me !  Oh,  if  I  had  had  Lilli  there  for  it ! 

And  now  you  are  really  engaged!  My  congratulations! 
Farewell,  dear,  good  child!  Lilli!! 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 

XV 

BAYREUTH,  September  7,  1876. 
OH,  MY  DEAR  GOOD  CREATURE! 

How  much  your  letter  touched  me.  Concerning  the  past  I 
have  no  other  recollection  than  the  regret,  especially  towards  you, 
that  I  have  not  yet  shown  myself  sufficiently  grateful.  Other- 
wise, everything  is  so  dead  to  my  soul.  As  my  horses  were  taken 
away  yesterday  I  burst  into  tears.  We  think  of  setting  out  for 
Italy  in  a  week.  I  did  not  wish  to  start  on  anything  like  that 
immediately,  but  the  King  would  strongly  desire  a  fourth  per- 
formance the  end  of  the  month,  which,  of  course,  must  be  refused. 

Next  year  we  shall  still  have  much  to  correct.  I  hope  that 
most  of  them  will  be  ready  to  work  with  me  towards  my  goal, 
which  is,  to  produce  an  ever  more  correct  performance.  Only 
Betz  casts  a  shadow  in  my  recollection.  The  unhappy  man  went 
so  far,  especially  at  the  beginning  of  the  last  performance  of  the 
Walkure,  as  straightways  to  ridicule  his  part.  While  I  still 
continue  to  consider  the  reasons  for  his  conduct,  I  am  more  con- 
firmed in  the  belief  that  he  was  vexed  because  he  was  not  allowed 
to  be  called  out.  I  had  already  suspected  this,  and  I  questioned 
him  about  it,  whereupon  he,  laughingly  turning  aside,  replied, 
He  and  Niemann,  any  way,  generally  did  not  go  out  at  all  to 
make  their  acknowledgments! 

I  am  thinking,  in  regard  to  that,  how  to  provide  that  the  part 
of  Wotan  shall  be  taken  by  some  one  else  next  year,  as  Betz 
has  announced  that  he  will  never  again  come  to  Bayreuth  under 
any  circumstances.  What  do  you  think  of  that,  my  best  one? 


240  My  Path  Through  Life 

On  the  whole,  I  must  not  occupy  myself  now  too  much  with 
the  future,  for  there  is  enough  of  a  load  on  my  soul. 

But — but — you,  dearest  being,  and — let  us  include  them 
gladly — the  sisters —  oh,  you  shine,  clear  and  true,  transfigured 
before  me.  I  shall  never  forget  the  tremendous  energy  of  your 
prediction  of  death  to  Siegfried! 

And  so  may  the  gods  preserve  the  best  for  us;  and  so  I  greet 
you,  dear  Lilli,  with  my  whole  heart,  as 

Your  true  and  most  grateful  debtor, 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Fidelio 
From  a  photograph  of  the  painting  by  Hans  Volkmer,  Munchen,  taken  in  1878 


After  Bayreuth 
1876-1878 

Not  goods  nor  gold 
Nor  godly  display, 
Not  house  nor  hall 
Nor  haughtiest  pomp, 
Not  treacherous  treaties' 
Trammels  and  bonds, 
Not  cruel  decrees 
Of  custom  and  cant; 
Blest  in  delight  or  loss 
Let  but  Love  be  your  king ! 

R.  WAGNER. 
(G  otter  dammerung.) 

THE  parting  with  Wagner  was  made  somewhat  easier  for 
us  by  our  firm  belief  that  there  would  be  festivals  during 
the  next  years — festival  performances  that  we  hoped  and 
wished  for,  and  that  I  constantly  demanded  of  Wagner.  It 
was  certain  that  he  desired  them,  but  that  he  already,  at  that 
time,  was  pessimistic  concerning  this  wish,  first  became  clear 
to  me  when  I  received  information  of  the  enormous  deficit 
from  this  initial  undertaking.  By  good  luck  we  did  not 
suspect  this  when  we  said  farewell,  and  we  left  Bayreuth 
happy  in  our  sure  confidence  in  another  alliance  and 
renewed  success. 

Everyday  life  began  again  at  once  at  the  railroad  station. 
If  it  was  difficult  to  reach  this  former  abode  of  the  Mark- 
graves  because  there  were  no  good  railway  connections 
whatsoever,  departure  was  actually  dangerous  to  life  and 

241 


242  My  Path  Through  Life 

limb.  Some  hours  before  the  Berlin  train  left,  several 
hundred  persons  gathered  at  the  station,  and  a  sufficient 
number  of  tickets  were  given  out.  Franz  Abt  laid  hold  of  me, 
while  standing  in  line  at  the  ticket  window,  and  wanted  to 
dedicate  some  songs  to  me,  but  he  said,  very  modestly,  that 
I  could  easily  improve  upon  them  by  myself.  That  I 
could  not  do,  however,  as  I  never  had  any  mind  for  composi- 
tion and  I  perpetrated  a  song  once  only  for  a  very  special 
reason,  which  was  taken  away  from  me — as^sometimes  hap- 
pens with  my  writings — against  my  wish,  and  was  printed 
without  my  consent  being  asked.  I  can  say,  however,  that 
I  condemned  myself  to  be  hanged  for  it,  even  if  it  found  but 
one  reader,  and  I  consigned  to  the  infernal  regions  "the 
robber  and  printer  against  my  will. " 

Well,  we  had  our  tickets,  but  when  the  little  train  with 
few  carriages,  which  every  one  stormed,  came  slowly  pushing 
along,  there  was  no  room  in  it.  I  can  still  see  Niemann's 
six-year-old  daughter  patiently  sitting  for  hours  on  a  heap 
of  shawls,  bandboxes,  and  trunks,  and  the  wild  running  about, 
and  I  can  hear  the  cries  and  curses.  The  few  first-class 
coupes  were  all  "engaged."  After  long  wandering  up  and 
down  we  were  so  lucky  as  to  be  taken  in  by  Count  Wilhelm 
Pourtales — who  observed  our  distress  from  his  reserved 
coupe — and  we  could  exclaim  with  the  Pompadour,  as  we 
were  seated  at  last,  "Apres  nous  le  deluge!"  I  actually  did 
not  trouble  myself  any  further  about  what  became  of  the 
others.  Count  Pourtales,  who  sometimes  honoured  us  by 
calling  on  us,  and  who  held  my  mother,  especially,  in  high 
esteem,  was  indeed  not  counted  amongst  our  intimate  friends, 
but  was  certainly  amongst  the  most  chivalrous.  Shut  away 
from  the  noisy  crowd,  we  could  exchange  our  still  quivering 
feelings  with  this  very  sensitive  man,  and  could  call  this  re- 
turn journey  a  worthy  ending  to  our  happy  experiences,  and 
give  expression  to  the  hope  of  a  further  development  of 
Bayreuth. 

We  had  scarcely  reached  Berlin,  when  the  old  repertoire 


After  Bayreuth,  1876-1878  243 

treadmill  began  again,  which  seemed  to  me,  for  a  long  time, 
like  a  mockery  of  all  that  we  had  seen  and  heard.  In  this 
respect,  my  mother  was  more  intolerant  than  I,  who,  at 
least,  had  the  interest  of  my  own  work.  She  maintained,  of 
some  newer  compositions,  that  she  could  not  bear  to  hear 
the  "wretched  stuff,"  and,  for  a  long  time,  she  could  not 
resolve  to  go  to  the  opera.  Ah  yes,  a  festival,  as  Wagner 
produced  it,  was  indeed  something  different  from  an  opera 
factory,  but,  even  for  him,  it  was  so  terribly  difficult  that 
for  a  long  while  it  could  not  be  made  to  succeed  a  second 
time. 

For  me,  however,  an  event  resulted  from  this  Bayreuth 
Festival  that  brought  much  sorrow,  and  rendered  me  unfit 
for  many  years  to  be  a  happy  human  being. 

At  the  time  of  the  rehearsals  of  '75,  Wagner  introduced 
to  us,  at  Wahnfried,  Carl  Brandt's  young  son.  He  had  been 
talking  with  his  back  to  us,  and,  upon  his  turning  quickly 
towards  us,  we  both  felt  an  electric  shock  that  seemed  to 
pass  from  one  to  the  other.  Was  Wagner  perhaps  the  power 
that  was  discharged  in  us,  and  were  we  merely  the  favourable 
objects?  I  do  not  know,  and  can  still  find  no  answer  to  the 
question  so  often  put  to  me.  How  could  we  love  recipro- 
cally so  suddenly,  without  having  previously  seen  or  spoken 
to  each  other.  So  swiftly  did  the  grand  feeling  of  belonging 
together  sweep  over  us  that  there  was  no  time  even  for  an 
impression. 

Neither  singer  nor  actor,  neither  painter  nor  instrument- 
alist, and  yet,  all  in  all,  an  artist  from  head  to  foot,  Fritz 
Brandt  was  a  child  of  the  theatre  in  the  best  sense,  whose 
inmost  life  was  filled  by  the  art  of  the  stage.  Wagner  loved 
him  and  his  ideal,  enthusiastic  nature,  that  was  useful  to 
him  and  remained  loyal  to  him  as  long  as  he  lived. 

We  did  not  speak;  neither  betrayed  his  feelings  to  the 
other;  in  fact,  words  were  not  needed.  The  task  that  we 
had  to  perform  for  Wagner  was  a  substitute  for  words  and 
bound  us  fast  together,  until  silence  was  broken  after 


244  My  Path  Through  Life 

the  Bayreuth  Festival,  and  a  union  of  the  heart  was 
concluded. 

For  me,  who  loved  for  the  first  time,  and  who  thought 
purely  and  ideally  of  the  love  of  a  girl  for  a  man,  it  was  a 
road  to  the  perfecting  of  myself,  my  being,  and  I  could  not 
conceive  of  anything  higher  and  purer.  I  know  that  he,  also, 
thought  and  felt  the  same  way.  My  trust  was  unshakable, 
as  the  striving,  industry,  energy,  and  stability  of  his  character, 
the  love  and  veneration  with  which  Fritz  responded  to  my 
inmost  soul  as  well  as  to  the  artist  seemed  to  ensure  me 
against  any  disappointment.  Our  letters — we  were  nearly 
always  separated — became  richer  from  day  to  day,  through 
the  wealth  of  new  music  and  stage  art  that  Wagner  had  just 
disseminated,  and  that  promised  to  fill  us  until  our  life's 
end.  What  we  had  experienced  in  Bayreuth,  all  that  we  had 
received  into  ourselves,  had  to  be  worked  over  that  we  might 
bring  the  fruit  to  maturity  that  Wagner  expected  from  the 
seed. 

Then  a  fearful  passion  disturbed  the  happiest  of  all  states 
of  the  human  soul,  and  slowly  but  surely  undermined  the  joy 
of  us  both.  Jealousy,  groundless,  blind  jealousy  corroded 
Fritz's  brain.  Jealousy  of  whom?  of  what?  Of  everything, 
even  the  most  impossible  objects. 

Fritz  usually  lived  at  Darmstadt  with  his  parents, 
worked  with  his  father,  travelled  much,  but  went  to  Berlin 
only  when  his  work  took  him  there,  and  so  we  saw  each  other 
very  rarely.  Fritz  was  to  provide  the  stage  mysteries  and 
decorations  for  Edward  Devrient,  who  intended  to  give 
both  parts  of  Faust  at  the  Victoria  Theatre.  I  followed  the 
charming  work  with  the  greatest  interest,  and  all  the  sketches 
were  already  finished  when  the  whole  thing  was  put  an  end 
to,  both  for  Devrient  and  for  him  as  well.  When  he  was 
with  me,  I  could  control,  in  some  degree,  his  unreasoning 
jealousy,  but  I  was  helpless  when  we  were  separated.  Then 
Fritz  knew  how  to  convince  me  so  eloquently  of  my  guilt 
that  I  ended  by  believing  in  it,  and  was  compelled  to  appear 


After  Bayreuth,  1876-1878  245 

culpable  in  my  own  eyes.  In  my  honesty  I  tortured  my 
heart  and  mind  searching  out  the  invisible  grounds  of  my 
sin;  I  fretted  and  became  steadily  sadder  and  more 
unhappy. 

To  this  uncomfortable  state  of  things  from  which  I,  with 
my  proud  nature,  in  the  purity  of  my  heart,  could  find  no 
way  out,  was  added  something  far  worse.  My  mother  be- 
came estranged  from  me.  She  grieved  about  me  and  with 
me,  without  knowing  the  reason  for  my  sorrow — Fritz's 
terrible  jealousy — as  I  concealed  my  tears  from  her,  though 
they  did  not  remain  hidden.  She  could  not  be  friendly  with 
Fritz  any  more,  hated  him,  finally,  on  my  account,  and 
thereby  heaped  still  greater  grief  upon  my  shoulders.  She 
saw  only  unhappiness  for  me  in  the  union,  and  was  dis- 
consolate and  unjust  towards  him  and  me.  In  what  a 
miserable  situation  did  my  usually  brave  heart  find  itself 
then!  My  soul,  spiritually  wronged  by  blind  jealousy,  was 
persecuted,  also,  by  the  most  painful  filial  emotions.  I  soon 
did  not  know  myself,  and,  the  more  acute  grew  the  situation, 
the  sadder  we  three  became,  as  we  all  suffered  equally  from 
it,  because  each  saw  the  distress  of  the  others. 

I  hoped  to  shut  out  jealousy  by  means  of  a  public  be- 
trothal. But  I  erred;  it  did  no  good  on  the  one  side,  and 
made  matters  even  worse  on  the  other. 

Then,  one  day,  I  plucked  up  courage,  had  a  long  talk 
with  my  dear,  good  mother,  poured  out  my  heart,  implored 
her  to  submit  to  the  inevitable,  and  told  her  that  we  would 
not  part  from  one  another,  nor  offend  against  the  great 
truth  that  one  can  neither  give  nor  take  of  himself  alone. 
We  did  not  attain  to  a  perfect  reconciliation,  for  which 
Fritz,  also,  honestly  strove,  but  the  frame  of  mind  was 
softened,  as  I  had  won  back  again  my  dear,  dear  mother,  at 
least  for  myself.  Entreaties  and  excuses  had  never  been 
my  affair,  but  I  learned  to  make  use  of  them  in  this  hour, 
when  I  also  learned  humility,  the  conquest  of  my  pride, 
and  the  consciousness  of  spiritual  achievement,  which,  more 


246  My  Path  Through  Life 

than  any  other  emotion,  taught  me  to  comprehend  the 
grandeur  of  human  love. 

Soon  afterwards  a  severe  accident  threatened  his  life  and 
mine.  Riezl  and  I  were  at  Ems  for  the  cure,  whence  my 
sister  hurried  to  Cologne  for  the  wedding  of  a  friend,  and  I 
made  use  of  the  two  days  to  pay  a  visit  to  my  future  parents- 
in-law,  at  Darmstadt.  Fritz  had  come  to  fetch  me,  and 
we  started  at  noon  by  the  express  that  had  only  three  first- 
class  carriages  and  not  more  than  five  or  six  passengers. 
About  twenty  minutes  from  Darmstadt,  our  train  began 
to  halt  and  to  bump  along.  Something  had  happened,  but 
we  did  not  know  what  it  was  nor  what  was  still  coming.  The 
uncertainty,  the  helplessness  one  felt  in  the  close,  secluded 
space  are  indescribable,  and  I  would  not  want  any  criminal 
to  endure  the  few  minutes  that  this  lasted.  I  noticed  how 
the  old  French  couple  who  shared  our  coupe  drew  up  their 
legs,  a  measure  of  precaution  I  did  not  heed  at  the  moment; 
I  saw  that  suddenly  the  wall  of  the  carriage  behind  Fritz, 
who  was  standing  opposite  me,  split  open;  I  felt  how  Fritz 
snatched  back  my  arms,  that  I  wanted  to  put  through  the 
window,  and  held  me  in  a  fierce  embrace  so  that  I  could  do 
nothing  foolish ;  felt  that  something  was  boring  into  my  back 
and  perceived  that,  finally,  the  train  stood  still  after  anxious 
seconds.  We  were  saved,  we  lived. 

We  slowly  returned  to  consciousness  as  we  heard  voices 
calling  across  from  the  station  that  roused  us  from  our 
numb  state.  Fritz  kissed  me  amid  tears,  and  now  we 
could  think  of  freeing  ourselves.  The  iron  rods  of  the  rack 
had  pressed  into  me,  but  had  injured  me  only  slightly, 
though  my  face  was  scratched  also.  The  window,  that  had 
been  open  during  the  journey,  had  closed;  the  coupe  door 
had  opened  and  shut  again  during  the  jumps  of  the  locomo- 
tive and  had  caught  Fritz's  coat,  so  that  those  who  brought 
help  had  trouble  in  propping  it  up  again.  The  coupe  was 
demolished,  and  we  four  passengers  had  not  been  crushed! 
One  fellow  sufferer,  however,  had  received  a  blow  on  his  feet, 


After  Bayreuth,   1876-1878  247 

and  had  to  be  carried  out ;  while  another  was  badly  hurt  and 
died  of  his  injuries.  Freed  at  last,  we  saw,  for  the  first  time, 
what  had  occurred.  The  disaster  had  come  from  the  break- 
ing of  the  rails.  The  locomotive  was  hidden  in  the  ground 
a  meter  deep,  and  the  baggage  car  lay  upside  down.  The 
first  carriage  had  run  part  way  up  the  second,  in  which  we 
sat,  and  would  inevitably  have  killed  us  in  another  moment. 
In  the  third  carriage,  the  one  that  was  the  least  damaged 
was  the  only  passenger  who  was  killed.  The  fragments  of 
the  rails  lay  in  tiny  pieces  scattered  far  and  wide,  and  the 
whole  made  a  picture  of  horrible  destruction.  It  was  only 
by  good  luck  that  there  had  been  so  few  on  board. 

After  a  disagreeable  wait  of  an  hour,  we  were  slowly 
taken  to  Darmstadt  by  a  train  that  had  been  ordered  from 
there,  where  no  one  as  yet  knew  of  the  accident,  and  we  then 
first  came,  also,  into  the  full  knowledge  of  the  calamity,  as 
well  as  the  feeling  of  gratitude  and  good  fortune  for  our 
deliverance.  His  parents'  cordial  reception  and  Fritz's 
loving  solicitude  for  me  made  my  short  stay  very  precious. 
I  felt  the  severe  nervous  excitement  first  in  the  night,  and 
could  get  no  rest  for  many  days  until  I  lay  in  my  mother's 
arms, — she  was  not  told  of  the  mischance  until  much  later. 
At  Darmstadt,  I  could  not  conceal  from  myself,  alas,  that 
there  was  much  scepticism  there  about  Fritz's  jealous  out- 
breaks and  the  promised  improvement.  His  father  said  to 
me  plainly  that  he  pitied  me. 

On  my  return  from  a  concert  not  long  after,  I  found  my 
poor  mother  lying  very  ill,  as  frequent  agitation  had  brought 
on  a  spasm  of  the  heart.  Although  the  danger  was  past,  my 
anxiety  had  a  crushing  effect  upon  me,  as  it  warned  me  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life  of  the  possible  loss  of  my  mother; 
but  I  forgot  it  only  too  quickly,  when  I  saw  her  well  again. 
Until  then,  however,  it  was  a  sad  time  that  was  not  inter- 
rupted by  anything  uplifting. 

Just  as  she  had  recovered,  a  blow  of  destiny  struck  me 
down,  under  the  force  of  which  I  nearly  collapsed.  I  still 


248  My  Path  Through  Life 

had  faith  in  my  future  happiness,  when  Fritz  informed  me 
that  he  had  entered  into  a  contract  with  Julius  von  Werther 
for  Mannheim,  and  hoped  to  realise  great  ideals  under  his 
guidance.  But  I  knew,  as  regarded  these  ideals,  that  at 
least  a  King  Ludwig  II  belonged  to  them,  and  that  they 
would  not  be  very  easily  realised ;  also,  that  Mannheim  and 
Julius  von  Werther  were  not  Bayreuth  and  Wagner.  Fritz 
emphasised  his  belief  that  now  nothing  stood  in  the  way  of 
our  union ;  that  he  would  not  bear  separation  from  me  any 
longer;  and  he  supplicated  me  to  arrange  everything  so  that 
I  could  follow  him.  instantly.  I  talked  with  Hulsen  who  did 
not  oppose  my  marriage,  but  who  refused  to  release  me  from 
my  contract.  So  I  was  compelled  to  inform  Fritz  that  a 
speedy  departure  from  Berlin  was  not  to  be  thought  of, 
and  I  begged  him  first  to  see  his  way  in  his  engagement — 
on  which  he  had  not  yet  entered — to  try  whether  he  could 
work  with  Julius  von  Werther  as  he  hoped,  and  then  we 
would  discuss  it  further.  My  requests  remained  without 
result.  Although  he  had  no  property  and  mine  was  not 
sufficient,  he  insisted  upon  his  demand,  and  in  all  seriousness 
gave  me  the  alternative,  either,  or! 

I  knew  indeed  that  my  "  no  "  would  shatter  my  happiness, 
and  yet  I  had  enough  reason  left  to  say  it.  I  alone  knew 
what  it  cost  me;  for  a  long  time  my  life  seemed  to  be 
destroyed. 

When  my  thoughts  troubled  me  I  asked  myself  over  and 
over  if  I  could  not  have  done  better  by  laughing  and  joking 
than  I  did  with  my  deep  seriousness,  my  love  of  truth,  and 
my  faith  in  others.  Perhaps  and  perhaps  not!  Much 
indeed  would  have  been  spared  me. 

In  the  year  1884,  Fritz  notified  me  of  his  betrothal  to  a 

young  lady  of  my  acquaintance,  Fraulein  von  B .  I  was 

the  first  to  receive  the  happy  tidings,  because  he  was  sure  of 
my  approval  of  his  choice.  Certainly  I  approved  it  with  all 
my  heart.  That  the  girl  was  earnest  and  cultured,  though 
she  could  not  be  called  pretty,  pleased  me  doubly,  because  it 


After  Bayreuth,  1876-1878  249 

was  a  proof  of  his  preference  for  inner  worth.  I  knew,  also, 
that  Fritz  would  be  secure  in  the  lap  of  her  family  for  his 
future  and  his  vocation.  But  here,  too,  jealousy  was  the 
ruin  of  the  otherwise  beautiful  harmony.  As  she  was  turning 
the  music  for  her  old  grandfather  at  the  piano,  one  evening, 
in  a  large  company,  and  a  scene  of  jealousy  ensued,  she  broke 
off  their  relations  at  once,  for  she,  also,  could  not  endure  them 
any  longer. 

Fritz  Brandt  died  soon  after  in  consequence  of  an  opera- 
tion at  Jena,  while  he  was  engaged  at  Weimar  as  manager 
with  the  title  of  professor. 

If  I  ask  myself  what  this  grievous  episode,  that  began  so 
happily,  brought  into  my  life,  and  what  it  left  behind,  I 
must  honestly  acknowledge  that  this  sorrow  softened  the 
hardness  of  my  character,  waked  my  still  undeveloped  feel- 
ings, and  ennobled  me,  for  I  learned  to  love  and  to  suffer  at 
the  same  time.  It  left  behind,  in  spite  of  knowledge,  only 
pity  for  an  unfortunate  being  who  did  not  understand  how 
to  make  himself  and  others  happy  through  his  otherwise 
brilliant  qualities,  and  to  whose  blind  jealousy  everything 
that  he  loved  had  to  fall  a  victim.  My  art  gained  by  that 
which  had  stirred  me  so  painfully  but  also  so  gloriously  as  a 
human  soul,  and  with  such  enrichment  one  may  not  shut 
himself  up  in  hardness  and  lovelessness.  But  that  my  dear 
mother  also  suffered  so  severely  is  the  feeling  that  pained  the 
longest,  and  that  I  can  never  forget  nor  forgive  him.  How 
deeply  did  it  continue  to  affect  my  life  thereafter! 


He  whom  thou  once  hast  loved  must  to  eternity 
Through  all  the  stress  of  life  be  sacred  unto  thee. 
'Tis  not  for  thee  to  ask  if  he  himself  did  prove 
Deserving  of  the  gift  contained  within  thy  love. 
A  solemn  truth  is  this :  because  thy  love  he  bore 
He  claims  a  right  on  thee  that's  holy  evermore. 
Though  he  be  all  unworthy  of  thy  leniency, 
Thou  must  respect  the  feeling  which  he  woke  in  thee. 


250  My  Path  Through  Life 

Thou  only  canst  respect  it,  if  changeless,  e'er  the  same, 
Thy  kindness  he  to  him,  however  great  his  blame. 
Love  him  thou  mayst  no  more,  if  he  be  false  and  bad, 
But  neither  mayst  forget  that  once  thy  love  he  had. 
If  power  so  marvellous  an  earthly  crown  invests, 
That  harm  cannot  befall  the  head  on  which  it  rests, 
How  then  canst  thou  be  so  intrepid  as  to  dare 
Work  harm  to  him  who  once  love's  diadem  did  wear. 

BETTY  PAOLI. 


Stockholm 
1878—1879 

A  I/THOUGH  I  did  not  neglect  my  vocation  for  a 
/i  moment,  yet  it  seemed  to  me  an  eternity  before  I 
again  found  any  pleasure  in  it,  and  could  give  myself  up 
to  it  with  my  whole  heart.  I  was  extremely  busy  all  the 
while;  sang  often  fifteen  times  a  month,  and  many  new  if 
not  exactly  very  important  parts. 

In  December,  '75,  we  brought  out  with  extraordinary 
success  and  great  results  the  charming  opera,  Das  Goldene 
Kreuz,  by  that  fine  musician  and  far-too-modest  man, 
Ignaz  Brii.ll,  in  which  I  created  the  role  of  Christine.  It  was 
performed  at  the  Berlin  Royal  Opera  innumerable  times  in 
the  next  ten  years.  Two  years  later  followed  his  Landfriede, 
which  was  no  less  sympathetic  and  just  as  well  rendered, 
but  which  fell  far  behind  the  success  of  Das  Goldene  Kreuz. 

An  event  happened  for  me,  on  April  15,  1876, — Verdi's 
Requiem, — which  we,  Heinrich  Ernst,  Franz  Betz,  Marianne 
Brandt,  and  I,  gave  three  times  at  the  Royal  Opera  House. 
Verdi's  wonderful  music  seized  upon  me  deeply,  although 
we  were  already  sailing  towards  Bayreuth  under  Wagner's 
flag.  I  was  accustomed  to  sing  Catholic  music,  I  knew 
the  ceremonies,  the  mystical  gloom  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
the  profound  faith  of  the  Catholic  people,  the  power  of  the 
music  in  the  consecrated  space,  saturated  with  incense, 
and  knew  how  to  represent  worthily  what  then  was  felt 
within  by  myself  and  others.  As  often  as  I  sang  Catholic 

251 


252  My  Path  Through  Life 

church  music — no  matter  where  or  what — I  always  felt  with 
positiveness  that  I  was  the  only  one  taking  part  who  did 
justice  in  expression  to  the  deep  religious  emotion,  the 
sacredness  of  the  action.  Perhaps  the  reason  lay  in  my 
innate  consciousness  of  the  Italian  style. 

This  feeling  must  have  been  correct  in  part  for,  as  we, 
Heinrich  Ernst,  Georg  Henschel,  Marianne  Brandt,  and  I 
sang  the  Requiem  at  the  Music  Festival  at  Cologne  in  '77, 
under  Verdi's  own  leadership,  I  was  the  only  one  whom  he 
did  not  criticise  at  all.  Verdi  was  a  man  of  few  words,  and 
with  him,  as  with  all  experts,  it  was  taken  for  granted  that 
one  should  master  the  technique  of  the  artistic  tasks  that 
were  undertaken,  and,  without  his  telling  me  so,  I  knew  that 
he  found  my  work  good.  Verdi  is  described  as  a  remarkable 
man  by  all  those  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  get  near  to 
him.  I  know  that  he  has  become  ever  greater  for  me  the 
longer  I  live,  and  that  to-day  I  count  him  amongst  the  grand- 
est and  highest,  and  I  revere  and  love  him  as  I  do  them. 
Verdi  had  brought  his  wife  with  him,  and  with  these  two 
dear,  serene  people  we  had  a  beautiful  festival,  under  the 
conductorship  of  the  witty  and  intellectual  Ferdinand  Hiller, 
who  always  signed  himself  "Fasi"  only,  and  who,  as  an 
artist,  was  very  intimate  with  me. 

The  festival  was  adorned  by  Johannes  Brahms,  as  the 
third  in  the  union,  who,  at  that  time,  still  beaming  with 
happiness  and  animation,  had  all  the  world  of  young  and 
pretty  women  at  his  feet.  As  I  mounted  the  platform  on  the 
third  evening  to  sing  a  Faust  aria  by  Spohr,  and  gave  my 
bouquet  to  Brahms  to  hold,  I  saw  him  pick  it  to  pieces,  and 
hand  a  flower  from  it  to  each  young  girl  in  the  chorus,  while 
he  shook  with  laughter. 

Shortly  before  this  Cologne  Music  Festival,  we  had  given 
in  Berlin  Le  Roi  I  'a  Dit,  by  Delibes,  in  which  Minnie  Hauk, 
to  please  whom  the  opera  was  studied,  sang  the  part  of 
Gervaise.  I  should  not  have  mentioned  the  work,  perhaps, 
if  there  were  not  for  me  an  observation  connected  with  it 


Stockholm,  1878,  1879  253 

about  which  I  cannot  keep  silence.  Minnie  Hauk  was  a 
great  favourite  for  a  long  time  with  the  press  and  the  public, 
but  she  was  already  less  popular,  and  least  of  all,  with  the 
members  of  the  company.  She  was  equally  unamiable 
towards  all  her  colleagues,  whether  men  or  women.  When 
Niemann,  for  instance,  during  a  rehearsal  of  Aida,  put  his 
arms  about  her  at  the  end  of  the  opera  to  enable  her  to  sink 
down  in  death,  she  requested  with  emphasis  that  he  would 
not  touch  her.  Niemann  replied,  "Then  you  will  fall!"  to 
which  she  answered,  "That  doesn't  matter,"  and  "bang" 
down  she  went.  She  had  guaranteed  the  management  ten 
full  houses  for  the  opera.  The  work  was  not  specially  well 
prepared,  Minnie  Hauk  made  nothing  of  her  role,  and  only  a 
duet  pleased  that  was  sung  by  Frau  Hofmeister  and  myself 
as  two  young  marquises — and  that  had  to  be  repeated. 
After  five  performances  the  opera  disappeared  from  the 
repertoire. 

But  one  must  be  just.  As  little  as  Minnie  Hauk  had 
been  able  to  give  me  up  till  now  of  anything  special  in  singing 
or  acting,  so  much  the  better  did  she  please  me  on  this  even- 
ing. What  left  the  audience  cold  that  night  was  artistically, 
though  unequally,  more  finely  worked  out  than  formerly. 
The  guttural  sound  of  the  low  tones  was  not  given  disagree- 
able prominence  as  it  hitherto  had  been,  and  her  singing  and 
acting  were  more  simple  and  distinguished.  Then  I  real- 
ised that  it  is  not  in  the  least  necessary  to  bellow;  that 
one  can  sing  well  with  a  small  voice,  if  it  but  sound  nobly ; 
that  it  is  silly  to  be  led  astray  by  large  rooms  and  the  strong 
voices  of  others — merely  for  the  sake  of  competition  in 
power — into  overstraining  the  physical  forces,  and  that  "the 
beautiful"  remains  "the  beautiful"  under  all  circumstances, 
even  though  it  may  be  recognised  only  by  the  single  individ- 
ual. Never  again  did  I  forget  the  warning.  So  Minnie 
Hauk,  also,  at  the  close  of  her  engagement,  sounded  a  string 
that  was  to  my  advantage. 

On    February    20,    1878,   was   celebrated    the    double 


254  My  Path  Through  Life 

marriage  of  our  pretty  and  bright  Princess  Charlotte,  daugh- 
ter of  the  Crown  Prince,  with  the  Hereditary  Duke  of 
Meiningen,  and  the  charming  Princess  Elizabeth,  daughter 
of  Prince  Friedrich  Karl,  with  the  Hereditary  Grand  Duke 
of  Oldenburg.  Titus  was  given  as  the  gala  opera,  and 
Taglioni,  the  ballet-master,  composed  a  gorgeous  ballet  for 
it,  in  which  the  ladies  of  the  ballet  appeared  for  the  first  time 
in  long  skirts, — that  is,  the  music  was  by  Mozart,  for  in 
those  days  no  one  had  yet  ventured  to  patch  something 
on  to  the  cloth  of  the  classic  masters,  who  were  not  then 
in  need  of  being  "improved"  as  they  are  to-day.  Frau  von 
Voggenhuber,  Marianne  Brandt,  and  I  received  on  this  occa- 
sion the  grand  medal  for  art  and  science  on  a  ribbon  from 
the  Duke  of  Meiningen.  This  was  my  first  decoration,  and 
where  there  is  one  thing  others  are  added  to  it. 

The  management  had  been  so  accustomed  for  five  years 
to  buy  me  off  from  taking  my  third  month's  leave  of  absence, 
that  I  almost  despaired  of  ever  being  able  to  make  use  of  this 
artistically  for  my  own  purposes.  Our  basso,  Conrad 
Behrens,  appeared  at  the  right  moment  as  a  deus  ex  machina, 
with  the  query  whether  I,  also,  would  not  go  as  visiting  artist 
to  Stockholm  with  him,  Franz  Betz,  and  the  chamber  music 
virtuoso,  Franz  Ponitz,  who  had  already  been  known  in 
Sweden  as  an  infant  prodigy.  Behrens  had  often  acted  there 
as  impresario  and  was  much  in  debt,  but  I  accepted  the  offer 
with  perfect  confidence  on  condition  that  he  would  obtain 
my  leave  of  absence,  which  had  been  steadily  refused  me 
until  then.  What  the  artist  could  not  accomplish  the  honest 
sharper  succeeded  in.  Although  the  engagement  did  not 
offer  much,  the  first  release  from  constraint  meant  everything 
to  me,  and,  in  the  end,  it  counted  brilliantly  through  success, 
the  becoming  known  in  a  foreign  country,  and  in  artistic 
development. 

We  started,  at  the  end  of  April,  with  a  pupil  of  my  mother, 

a  young,  lively  daughter  of  a  clergyman,  Adele  S ,  who 

chaperoned  me  on  the  journey  by  way  of  Stralsund-Malmo 


Stockholm,  1878-1879  255 

to  Stockholm.  Like  fruit  blossoms  from  the  marches  we 
soon  arrived  in  Sweden,  that  was  still  in  the  deadness  of 
winter.  It  was  a  long,  desolate  ride,  but  it  was  very  inter- 
esting and  sympathetic  to  me,  who,  strangely  enough,  always 
yearned  for  the  north  as  though  my  salvation  lay  at  the 
North  Cape.  On  and  on  we  went  through  the  dead,  waste 
heath  land,  past  lakes,  moors,  masses  of  rock,  large  and  small, 
overgrown  with  moss,  forests,  and  bogs,  without  seeing  a 
man  or  an  animal  for  hours.  After  a  fine  night's  sleep,  we 
crept  through  a  long  tunnel  the  next  morning,  and  before  us 
lay  Stockholm,  one  of  the  most  splendid  of  cities. 

We  were  delightfully  established  at  the  Grand  Hotel, 
near  the  River  Malar.  What  a  view!  Great  ships  were 
anchored  on  the  opposite  shore,  close  under  the  royal  cas- 
tle, and  with  raging  swiftness  the  river  shot  by,  and  vessels, 
also,  little  steamers  that  passed  under  bridges  to  the  islands, 
or  such  as  kept  up  communication  between  the  shores. 
The  Karl  IX,  that  was  employed  in  this  business,  often 
sent  up  from  its  landing  place  thick  volleys  of  smoke  to 
our  balcony,  so  we  promptly  re-baptised  it  the  Korl  Stanker, 
in  honour  of  Fritz  Reuter. 

The  first  of  May  was  not  a  summer  day  in  Sweden,  for 
it  was  bitterly  cold.  Downpours  of  rain  alternated  with 
snow-storms,  to  which  we  all  paid  our  tribute  with  severe 
catarrhs.  But  the  nights  were  already  remarkably  bright, 
when  we  could  read  outdoors  until  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening; 
on  the  other  hand,  we  were  prevented  from  sleeping  in  spite 
of  dark  curtains,  as  the  northern  lights  streamed  in  every- 
where and  kept  us  awake. 

Custom  demanded  that  we  should  present  ourselves  at 
once  to  the  sovereign.  Count  Perponcher  had  given  me  let- 
ters that  it  did  no  harm  to  have,  even  if  I  did  not  need  them, 
to  Holtermann,  the  Court  Marshal,  and  other  noted  persons. 
The  Queen,  moreover,  was  at  a  watering-place,  and  only  the 
Crown  Prince  remained  with  his  father  at  his  studies. 

The  King  requested  me  to  go  to  him,  on  one  of  the  first 


256  My  Path  Through  Life 

days,  at  eleven  in  the  morning.  The  Marshal  and  Count 
Rosen  received  me  in  advance,  showed  me  the  apartments, 
and  I  was  summoned  to  the  King  punctually  at  eleven. 

"King  Oscar,"  as  I  wrote  to  my  mother,  "is  a  large, 
handsome,  elegant  man  with  fine  eyes,  full  of  unconstrained 
affability,  and  I  think  we  pleased  each  other  mutually. " 

The  Royal  Opera  House  was  a  splendid  old  building  with 
excellent  acoustics.  Historic  were  the  hall,  in  which  King 
Gustav  III  was  murdered,  and  the  beautiful  room,  that  was 
arranged  for  my  dressing-room,  in  which  he  breathed  his  last. 
These  memories  moved  me  strangely,  as  I  had  often  lived 
through  the  story  myself  as  the  Page  in  Auber's  and  Verdi's 
Maskeriball. 

We  began  our  engagement  with  a  concert  at  the  Opera 
House;  next  we  sang  Tell.  The  King  arrived  at  the  end 
of  the  first  act,  remained  to  the  last  note  and  final  applause, 
and  clapped  with  raised  hands.  During  the  ballet,  which 
was  not  very  good,  he  went  out,  and  only  returned  after  it 
was  over.  Adele  remarked  that  our  Kings  would  have  made 
their  first  appearance  then ;  but  they,  indeed,  had  a  better 
ballet.  On  his  entrance  the  King  bowed  to  every  side,  a 
formality  that  he  repeated  upon  his  departure.  It  looked 
fine  and  ghostly  when  the  outrider  rushed  away,  carrying  a 
flaming  torch,  in  advance  of  the  royal  carriage. 

Here  in  Stockholm  I  sang  Elsa  in  Lohengrin  for  the  first 
time.  It  was  recorded  that  only  now  was  I  seen  in  my  special 
metier,  and  from  all  sides  came  demands  for  Donna  Anna  and 
Norma,  r61es  to  which  I,  according  to  my  own  feelings, 
was  not  yet  equal.  I  found  excellent  artists  in  the  persons 
of  the  Conductors  Normann  and  Dente,  with  whom  I  would 
have  been  ready  to  risk  anything  without  rehearsing. 
The  chorus  and  orchestra  were  admirable,  also,  and  several 
men  and  women  singers,  although  the  latter  were  wanting 
in  energy  and  temperament.  I  sang  Traviata  with  the  dis- 
tinguished Alfredo-Odmann,  who,  unaccustomed  to  rapid 
study  or  singing,  always  implored  me  urgently  in  the  last 


Stockholm,  1878-1879  257 

duet,  "Do  not  go  so  fast,  Mademoiselle  Lehmann,  I  beg  of 
you;  it  is  necessary  to  put  on  goloshes  to  follow  you.'* 
With  him  in  the  part  of  Jose,  I  heard  Carmen  for  the  first 
time,  that  had  not  yet  been  given  in  Germany,  and  I  was 
delighted  with  the  opera  that  has  always  electrified  me 
afresh,  and  to  which  I  have  been  loyal  in  enthusiastic  recog- 
nition. Don  Juan,  with  me  as  Elvira,  the  Barbier,  and 
Faust  followed. 

On  May  I2th,  I  was  strongly  affected  by  the  attempt  on 
the  life  of  our  beloved  Emperor,  news  of  which  was  brought 
me  by  a  member  of  the  German  embassy,  and  I  instantly 
telegraphed  to  His  Majesty  my  congratulations  upon  his 
escape,  and  they  were  sent  from  the  depths  of  my  heart. 
I  hoped  that  the  people  would  have  torn  the  criminal  to 
pieces. 

We  drove,  one  morning,  to  Upsala  for  a  concert,  Betz, 
Ponitz,  Conductor  Dente,  Adele,  and  I,  in  black  concert  dress. 
The  performance  should  have  begun  at  one  o'clock  in  the 
hall  of  the  library,  for  we  were  expected  back  in  Stockholm 
at  four  o'clock.  But  it  did  not  take  place,  because  somebody, 
to  whom  Behrens  had  entrusted  the  arrangements,  had  an- 
nounced the  concert  without  a  programme  only  the  evening 
before,  and  not  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  tickets  had 
been  sold.  Behrens  was  raging,  while  we  laughed  and 
begged  him  to  give  up  the  concert.  Upsala,  in  spite  of  its 
twelve  thousand  inhabitants,  was  a  dead  town,  in  which 
only  the  students  "lived, "  and  nothing  was  worth  seeing  but 
the  splendid  old  cathedral.  After  we  had  admired  it,  and 
I  had  sent  down  a  silent  greeting  to  my  favourite,  Gustavus 
Vasa,  in  his  vault,  and  we  had  looked  with  horror  at  the 
doublets  of  the  murdered  dignitaries,  we  went  in  single  file 
at  clear,  high  noon,  singing  loudly,  through  the  dead  streets 
of  Upsala  to  the  station,  and  at  four  o'clock  were  back  in 
Stockholm. 

Whenever  Franz  Ponitz,  the  harp  virtuoso,  was  with  us 

we   always   had   a   royal   time.     His   childlike   animation 
17 


258  My  Path  Through  Life 

infected  even  our  stiff  colleague,  Betz,  who  then  enjoyed 
laughing  and  joking  with  us,  and  he  always  awaked  an  echo 
in  Adele  and  me.  Unfortunately,  Behrens  sent  him  to 
concertise  in  the  far  north  with  a  "Swedish  nightingale" 
(whom  we  baptised  "Tunte  Hebbe, "  because  she  was  so 
tiresome),  to  attract  the  Swedes  of  the  north  with  the  strains 
of  the  harp,  and  the  Swedish  fish  with  hooks,  which  Ponitz 
never  omitted  to  do.  Upon  his  return  he  burst  into  our  room 
with  the  words  "Good  morning,  ladies,"  and  inquired: 
"What  is  'despair'  in  French?  I  am  in  desperation  over 
the  weather." 

As  soon  as  the  weather  improved  somewhat  we  two  ladies 
went  walking  for  hours  in  the  fine  D jur-garden,  where,  at  last, 
primroses  and  violets  overflowed  the  meadows  and  forests, 
and  moss  of  all  colours  enlivened  the  grey  masses  of  rock. 
The  lakes  and  woods  suddenly  shone  with  the  glow  of 
summer. 

The  King  had  sent  me  a  beautiful  bracelet  a  few  days 
after  my  first  appearance.  No  court  concert  had  taken  place 
in  Stockholm  for  twenty  years,  and  now  King  Oscar  had 
appointed  one  for  May  2ist.  He  put  all  his  rooms  at  our 
disposal  for  a  rehearsal  on  the  preceding  evening,  but  we 
declined  with  thanks,  as  we  held  the  rehearsal  at  the  Opera 
House. 

Contrary  to  court  etiquette  at  Berlin,  where  one  was 
merely  "commanded,"  we  were  here  "invited"  directly  as 
guests,  like  the  whole  court.  Very  peculiar  it  seemed  to  me  to 
see,  according  to  custom,  all  the  ladies  in  black  decollete 
dresses  and  small  white  mull  sleeves  trimmed  with  narrow 
black  velvet  ribbon  set  on  cross-barred.  Only  young  girls 
wore  white  at  balls.  Of  course  I,  also,  had  put  on  my  black 
satin  gown  for  the  evening. 

Invited  for  half -past  eight  we  drove  up  at  a  quarter  after. 
Count  Rosen  led  me  on  his  arm  up  to  the  quite  aged  wife  of 
the  Marshal,  who  graciously  bade  me  welcome,  and  took  it 
upon  herself  to  introduce  me  to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen. 


Stockholm,  1878-1879  259 

Our  German  Ambassador,  also,  came  up  to  me  at  once  to 
greet  me  most  cordially,  and  all  those  present  distinguished 
me  with  attention  in  the  most  amiable  way.  The  Swedes 
have  something  rarely  modest  and  fine  about  them,  and  much 
heartiness  combined  with  French  courtesy.  The  King  ap- 
peared with  Crown  Prince  Gustav  at  a  quarter  to  nine,  and 
spoke  to  his  suite  and  the  guests  with  the  intimate  "Du. " 
He  complimented  me  extravagantly  on  my  Margarethe  and 
Elsa,  and  he  also  thanked  Behrens  for  bringing  such  an 
admirable  artist.  During  the  intermission  the  Crown 
Prince  approached  me,  with  whom  I  had  a  long  talk.  He 
complained  to  me  about  his  many  studies,  but  I  had  to  say 
to  him  that,  as  Crown  Prince  and  future  King,  he  must  set  a 
good  example  for  every  one  else  and  make  the  greatest 
knowledge  his  own  to  be  able  to  do  justice  to  such  a  mighty 
task.  King  Oscar  concluded  his  conversation  with  the 
following  words:  "It  is  settled  then  that  you  are  to  return 
next  year.  Your  Margarethe  has  fascinated  me — I  should 
like  to  have  been  Faust, — you  have  so  much  distinction  in 
your  bearing  and  appearance,  and  give  so  much  that  is 
artistically  beautiful  that  I  have  never  heard  anything 
better." 

"What  more  would  you  have,  dear  mamma,  from  a  King 
of  Sweden"  I  wrote  to  my  mother,  who  could  not  be  present 
to  triumph  as  her  child  was  distinguished  and  spoiled.  The 
King  was  a  fine  musician,  and  sang,  as  Frau  Backstrom  told 
me,  who,  an  artist  herself,  often  made  music  with  the  King ; 
he  also  spoke  seven  living  languages,  and  is  said  to  have  made 
an  excellent  translation  of  Shakespeare  into  Swedish.  More- 
over, he  was  a  most  amiable  host,  who,  at  the  table,  con- 
tinually set  better  and  better  things  before  me.  His  guests 
accordingly  felt  themselves  so  at  ease  that  Betz  observed: 
"It  dare  not  be  any  more  intimate,  otherwise  one  would 
forget  that  it  was  a  King's  entertainment. "  The  King  was 
very  animated,  and  so  enthusiastic  that  he  embraced  several 
of  his  guests.  When  he  said  good-bye  to  me,  he  asked  me 


260  My  Path  Through  Life 

if  I  were  satisfied  with  the  public,  and  as  I  replied  that  it  was 
far  too  kind  to  me,  he  said :  "  Oh  no,  that  is  not  nearly  enough ; 
you  deserve  much,  much  more. " 

At  the  end  of  May,  I  took  my  farewell  of  the  King  at  a  long 
audience.  I  had  sung  fourteen  times  between  May  3d  and 
29th.  Now  we  were  to  go  to  Gothenburg  for  a  concert,  but, 
even  before  we  started,  the  payments  made  by  our  honest 
impresario  did  not  agree.  Ponitz  had  800  and  I  1600 
crowns  still  due  us.  Betz,  alone,  had  been  cautious  enough 
to  perform  only  after  the  payment  of  his  salary.  The 
accounts  were  to  be  straightened  out  in  Gothenburg.  Behrens 
gave  me,  as  a  pledge,  three  diamond  buttons  that  he  had  just 
received  from  the  King,  and  I  took  them,  for  it  seemed  to  me 
safer  to  have  something  than  nothing.  When  we  arrived  at 
Gothenburg,  we  were  surprised  by  the  news  that  Behrens 
would  not  come,  and  so  we  quickly  decided  not  to  sing  at  this 
concert,  but  to  take  atrip  to  the  famous Trollhatta Falls,  and 
then  to  go  back  to  Berlin  at  once.  What  richness  of  Swedish 
poetry  rose  up  before  my  eyes  as  I  lay  for  a  long  time,  quite 
alone,  on  the  rocks  of  the  greatest  of  falls,  that  were  not 
gigantic,  but  that  intoxicated  the  beholder  by  their  sweet 
poetic  enchantment. 

The  way  home  led  through  Hamburg,  where,  despite  all 
our  writing  and  inquiries,  nothing  could  be  seen  or  heard  of 
our  honourable  impresario.  The  chief  gain  from  this  engage- 
ment, that  had  brought  me  thorough  enjoyment  and  artistic 
stimulus  besides  great  distinction,  lay  in  the  acquisition  of 
ability  to  dispose  positively  of  my  three  months'  leave  of 
absence,  and  to  use  them  for  good  special  engagements,  that 
is,  for  higher  aims. 

Niemann  as  Florestan,  whom  we  all  acclaimed,  was 
Berlin's  winter  event.  At  last  one  saw  the  embodiment  of 
Beethoven's  ideal  figure,  as  had  happened  before,  perhaps, 
only  with  Schnorr  von  Carolsfeld,  and  in  which,  after  Nie- 
mann, no  one  else  can  ever  succeed  again.  His  incompara- 
ble and  masterly  performance  stamped  the  work,  that  until 


Stockholm,  1878-1879  261 

then  had  served  only  as  a  stop  gap  with  the  addition  of  a 
ballet,  which  Niemann  forbade  in  the  case  of  a  leading  opera 
as  long  as  he  sang  in  Berlin. 

Wagner's  old  friend,  Richard  Pohl,  the  writer  on  music, 
with  whom  I  had  become  acquainted  at  Bayreuth,  now 
invited  me  annually  to  co-operate  in  a  concert  on  the 
Empress's  birthday,  which  she  celebrated  in  Baden-Baden, 
and  which  concert  the  noble  lady  always  attended.  Then 
I  sang  at  Bonn,  where  I  met,  for  the  first  time,  our  then 
Prince  Wilhelm,  now  our  Emperor,  who  was  studying  there. 

The  oftener  I  was  honoured  away  from  Berlin  the  sadder 
I  was  made  by  my  "Princess  roles,"  when,  as  occasionally 
occurred,  I  was  assigned  exclusively  to  one  of  them.  I 
sang  once  again  the  most  detestable  of  all  opera  Princesses — 
Elvira  in  Die  Stumme  von  Portici.  This  time  I  was  even 
already  announced  in  advance  on  the  programme  of  the  pre- 
vious evening,  which  until  then  had  not  been  done  in  the  case 
of  this  opera.  One  may  do  with  the  role  what  one  will,  all 
trouble  is  in  vain,  nothing  can  improve  it.  The  only 
attainable  end  was  to  get  through  the  matter  with  calm 
elegance.  In  the  first  aria  the  lines, 

My  beating  heart 
Announces  this  wonderful  day, 
My  tongue  cannot  express 
My  intense  rapture, 

are  repeated  fully  ten  times  with  trills  and  fioriture  until  one 
is  sick.  The  role  disgusted  me,  and  still  more  that  of  the 
Prince,  my  husband,  one  of  the  most  unfortunate  tenor- Prince 
parts  of  the  third  rank  of  which  the  modern  imagination 
can  ever  conceive. 

Once,  as  we  walked  out  of  the  church  door,  happily  or 
unhappily  married,  and  my  princely  spouse  sang  a  stupid 
phrase  to  me,  "bounce,"  fell  a  huge  bouquet  on  my  train, 
just  between  us,  and  he  had  the  unlucky  idea  of  picking  it 
up  and  handing  it  to  me.  "Bang,"  and  another  one  flew 


262  My  Path  Through  Life 

from  a  proscenium  box  in  the  second  row,  and  a  third  and  a 
fourth  until  there  was  a  full  half-dozen,  which  put  the  audi- 
ence in  a  most  cheerful  mood.  On  the  stage,  however,  all 
maintained  their  dignified  bearing,  and  only  when  the  curtain 
fell,  did  I  rush  howling  to  the  dressing-room,  whither  the 
objects  used  in  this  fearful  attempt  on  my  life  had  already 
been  taken.  Here  was  revealed  the  involuntary  criminal. 
I  had  become  acquainted  the  day  before,  at  a  party,  with 
Professor  Noire,  who,  together  with  the  amiable  host, 
intended  the  beautiful  flowers  for  me,  and  instead  of  sending 
them  explicitly  to  my  dressing-room  had  left  the  matter  to 
the  florist,  who  had  been  so  awkward  as  to  throw  them. 
I  can  laugh  over  it  to-day,  but  then  I  howled  over  the 
tragi-comic  scene,  the  like  of  which,  thank  God,  I  never 
experienced  again. 

Goldmark's  Queen  of  Sheba  had  been  produced  at  Vienna 
with  great  success;  Materna  as  the  Queen  and  Wilt  as 
Sulamith  had  got  themselves  talked  about,  and  now  Berlin 
was  to  have  the  decorative  wonder  of  the  desert.  The  parts 
were  distributed,  and  Frau  von  Voggenhuber  was  given  the 
Queen.  Instead  of  giving  Sulamith  to  me,  the  only  one  to 
be  considered  for  it,  the  r61e  was  given  to  Frau  Mallinger, 
who  had  the  good  sense  to  return  it  at  once.  But  I  was  not 
to  receive  it  even  yet,  for  it  was  entrusted  to  a  wretched 
beginner,  who  was  not  suited  to  it  either  personally  or 
vocally,  and  still  less  as  artist.  Only  as  the  impossibility 
of  it  became  apparent,  and  even  Eckert,  who  conducted  the 
opera,  opposed  it,  was  I  deemed  good  enough  to  be  allowed 
to  create  the  r61e.  Never  was  the  obvious  thing  done  for 
my  talent,  and  even  less  what  would  advance  it ! 

The  part  lay  in  the  high  register  and  demanded  dramatic 
as  well  as  vocal  effects  that  required  power  and  technique, 
which  even  I,  with  all  my  experience  and  artistic  knowledge, 
had  to  master  by  special  study,  because  every  new  composi- 
tion brings  new  situations,  new  difficulties  for  the  singer,  and 
new  vocal  effects  into  action. 


Stockholm,  1878-1879  263 

One  day  as  I  sat  alone  with  Eckert  at  a  rehearsal  for 
Sheba,  he  complained  of  his  eyes  that  were  specially  trouble- 
some that  morning.  I  polished  his  glasses  with  my  gloves, 
but  he  insisted  that  something  flickered  incessantly  back  and 
forth  before  his  eyes.  When  we  were  all  assembled  the 
rehearsal  began.  As  we  reached  the  second  finale,  that  was 
being  tried  in  ensemble  for  the  first  time,  and  which  was  not 
easy  to  sing,  we  grew  steadily  louder,  more  vehement,  and 
falser ;  one  shrieked  above  another  until  we  reached  a  climax 
that  resembled  a  real  Jewish  synagogue  in  its  musical  con- 
fusion, and  then  we  suddenly  broke  off,  laughing  loudly,  and 
shook  with  merriment.  After  we  had  had  our  laugh  and 
were  quiet  again,  Eckert  closed  the  score,  and  said  in  his 
divinely  calm  way, "  I  think  we  have  done  enough  for  to-day," 
whereupon  Betz-Solomon  took  him  by  the  arm  to  go  with 
him  to  Lutter  and  Wegner's  to  empty  a  good  bottle  of 
"Rotspohn. "  We  went  out  together  laughing  heartily. 
The  next  morning  we  were  horrified  by  receiving  intelligence 
of  Eckert's  death.  He  had  died  in  a  cab  that  very  evening, 
as  he  was  going  to  call  for  his  pretty  wife  at  a  dinner,  after 
he  had  finished  giving  many  lessons. 

In  Carl  Eckert  we  had  to  lament  a  man  who  could  not  be 
replaced,  and  whose  goodness  could  not  be  sufficiently 
extolled.  Born  at  Potsdam  in  1820,  he  received  instruction 
as  an  infant  prodigy  from  Zelter  and  Rungenhagen,  and 
from  Ries  on  the  violin,  studied  with  Mendelssohn-Bartholdy 
at  Leipsic,  was  conductor  of  the  Italian  Opera  in  Paris, 
and  went  to  America  with  Henriette  Sontag.  From  1853-61 
he  was  court  conductor  and  artistic  director  of  the  Vienna 
Court  Opera;  1861-67  court  conductor  at  Stuttgart,  and, 
finally,  from  1869-79  court  conductor  at  Berlin.  He  was 
universally  held  in  high  esteem. 

Eckert  still  knew  something  of  voice  culture  and  singing ; 
he  understood  from  the  first  tone  what  the  singer  was 
capable  of,  where  he  should  help  him,  where  he  could  enlarge, 
or  where  he  should  glide  over  something.  He  had  much 


264  My  Path  Through  Life 

knowledge  beside  his  great  talent,  and  an  immense  following. 
He  knew  exactly  what  he  owed  the  singer,  where  his  authority 
began  or  ended.  His  arm,  both  energetic  and  pliant,  led 
the  singer  or  was  led,  according  to  the  correct  feeling  of  the 
artist,  and  when  Eckert  sat  down  below  one  felt  that  a 
musical  vibration  streamed  through  the  performance.  That 
which  came  directly  after  him  was  sad  for  opera  and  still 
worse  for  art. 

True  to  my  promise  at  the  end  of  April,  '79,  I  again 
travelled  to  Stockholm  for  a  special  engagement.  Greeted 
with  homage  by  the  King  and  with  delight  by  the  public,  it 
was  again  a  glorious  time  for  me,  and  this  year  I  was  favoured, 
also,  by  the  most  perfect  weather.  At  my  very  first  audience 
the  King  bestowed  upon  me  his  order,  Litteris  et  artibus. 
Besides  Faust,  Traviata,  and  Elsa  and  Ernani  in  Italian, 
I  also  sang  Elisabeth  in  Tannhduser,  for  the  first  time,  and 
Isaura  in  a  Swedish  opera,  Die  Wickinger,  by  Hallstrom,  the 
King's  favourite  composer,  who  always  accompanied  him 
when  he  sang.  I  had  studied  the  r61e  with  German  text, 
but  I  wanted  to  learn  it  quickly  in  Swedish,  so  as  to  show 
myself  grateful  to  the  King,  and  also  to  the  public.  I  knew 
two  acts  already  by  heart,  when  the  King  requested  me  to 
to  go  to  him,  first,  that  he  might  thank  me,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  to  ask  me  to  sing  the  part  in  German  and  immediately, 
as  he  was  dying  with  impatience,  and,  moreover,  was  obliged 
to  go  hunting  on  a  certain  date. 

King  Oscar  was  so  exceedingly  kind  as  to  sing  something 
for  me  on  the  day  just  mentioned.  He  sang  the  Faust  aria, 
various  compositions  by  Hallstrom,  and  the  duet  from  Faust 
with  me — Hallstrom  accompanying.  The  King  did  not 
sing  like  a  dilettante,  but  like  a  first-class  artist.  Now  I 
comprehended  his  understanding,  and  what  boundless  pleas- 
ure he  derived  from  music,  which  had  become  second  nature 
to  him.  After  we  had  finished,  he  took  me  into  his  study, 
and  walked  about  the  room  with  me  fully  half  an  hour, 


Stockholm,  1878-1879  265 

chatting  about  art,  and  also  wrote  for  me  some  lines  to  the 
governor  of  the  castle  at  Gripsholm,  where  King  Erich  sat 
so  long  in  captivity,  and  expressed  a  wish  that  I  would  visit 
the  castle.  But  when  the  King  said  to  me,  quite  regretfully, 
that  I  should  not  see  as  many  soldiers  in  Sweden  as  in  Ber- 
lin, I  had  to  smile,  and  exclaim  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart, 
"Thank  God,  Your  Majesty,  one  can  breathe  freely  here," 
whereupon  he  joined  heartily  in  my  laughter.  On  leaving 
the  apartments,  I  took  the  wrong  turn,  and,  before  I  had 
found  any  one  to  set  me  right,  I  met  the  King  again,  who  gal- 
lantly cried  out, "  Voila  les  beaux  esprits  qui  se  rencontrent ! " 

I  had  again  promised  to  return  another  time,  and  I 
fully  intended  to  do  so,  but  it  could  not  be  done,  although 
I  often  received  proposals  from  there,  while  the  hope  of 
again  seeing  beautiful  Stockholm  and  its  most  gracious 
sovereign  was  frustrated  by  his  unexpected  death.  Shortly 
before,  the  King  had  sent  me  word  through  Geraldine 
Farrar,  that  I  must  go  there  because  he  would  like  so  much 
to  hear  me  again  before  he  died.  But  who  could  have  be- 
lieved that  he  would  go  so  early  to  his  long  home?  I  can 
still  see  him  in  his  box  during  Tannhauser,  listening  in  ecstasy, 
with  his  hands  folded  almost  with  fervency,  to  the  passage, 
"That  also  for  him  the  Saviour  once  suffered."  It  was 
uplifting  to  know  that  he  was  feeling  and  thinking  in  sym- 
pathy. His  highly  artistic  sentiment  and  his  enthusiasm 
inspired  the  artist  for  his  task,  and  caused  him  to  give  his 
best. 

As  my  dear  mother  expected  me  at  Christiania  at  the 
beginning  of  June,  I  sent  my  companion  home,  and  accepted 
an  invitation  from  Frau  Backstrom,  who  owned  a  fine 
country  estate  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Stockholm,  and  whose 
husband  made  every  effort  to  render  it  attractive  to  his 
family.  Four  splendid  sons,  ranging  in  age  from  ten  to 
sixteen,  filled  the  house  and  garden  with  life.  Starting 
about  ten  o'clock  at  night,  we  sailed  in  their  own  yacht, 
from  sunset  to  sunrise,  that  is,  the  sun  played  hide-and-seek ; 


266  My  Path  Through  Life 

then,  when  we  thought  it  had  just  gone  down,  up  it  came  again 
on  the  other  side.  We  often  watched  the  sublime  spectacle 
until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  family  presented  a 
charming  picture  when  Frau  Lilly  sang  Gounod's  Ave  Maria, 
and  three  of  her  sons  accompanied  her  on  the  piano,  violin, 
and  'cello.  She  told  me  that  she  was  wooed  by  her  noble 
husband  when  she  was  a  rich  girl,  one  of  the  von  Lowenklau 
family.  A  few  days  before  the  wedding  her  parents  dis- 
closed to  him  that  they  were  completely  ruined,  but  he  paid 
all  their  debts,  and  took  his  Lilly  to  his  home,  poor  as  she 
was,  without  any  one  knowing  what  he  had  done.  When 
we  were  taking  a  drive  she  visited  her  parents'  grave,  which 
I  did  not  know  about  in  advance,  where  she  said  a  short 
prayer.  I  was  walking  behind  her,  and  I  took  from  my 
breast  a  little  bunch  of  lilies-of-the-valley  that  one  of  her 
charming  boys  had  pinned  on  me  for  the  drive,  and  laid  it 
on  the  grave.  I  did  not  suppose  that  she  would  perceive  it, 
but  she  embraced  me,  however,  quite  overcome,  with  the 
words,  "You  have  a  heart." 

Frau  Backstrom  often  talked  to  me  of  King  Oscar,  and 
of  his  brother  also,  the  deceased  King,  Karl  XV,  who  had 
lived  in  the  greatest  simplicity,  like  a  plain  citizen,  and  who 
went  in  and  out  of  the  homes  of  most  of  the  families  of  the 
town  at  will,  and  who  stayed  here  or  there  to  dinner  or  supper 
unannounced.  He  was  idolised  by  the  people,  and  they 
would  not  believe  in  his  death ;  they  preferred  to  think  that 
he  was  only  ill,  or  had  gone  into  retirement  to  reappear 
some  time. 

I  took  long  walks  through  luxuriant  fir  forests,  in  good 
company  with  the  dear  boys,  who  led  me,  also,  to  the  great 
agricultural  establishment  belonging  to  Herr  Cadier,  the 
owner  of  the  Grand  Hotel.  The  arrangements  were  ad- 
mirable, and  the  splendid  stables  were  interesting,  especially 
the  immense  pens  for  the  pigs,  that,  together  with  their 
occupants,  shone  with  cleanliness.  Adjoining  the  winter 
quarters  were  large,  open  summer  spaces  that  led  directly 


Stockholm,  1878-1879  267 

to  a  beautiful  lake,  where  all  the  big  and  little  pigs  were 
bathed  every  day.  The  animals  were  inviting,  one  had  to 
admit.  Herr  Cadier  put  in  my  arms,  a  tiny  black  and  white 
sucking-pig  that  he  begged  me  to  keep  as  a  memento  of 
my  visit,  and  that  I  really  carried  back  to  the  house,  and 
then  left  as  a  pledge  with  Lilly  Backstrom.  But  when 
she  sent  me,  a  year  later,  a  huge  ham  from  the  dainty  baby, 
I  could  not  bring  myself  to  taste  even  a  morsel  of  it.  I  had 
carried  the  little  animal  in  my  arms,  and  that  was  sufficient 
to  take  away  any  appetite  for  its  flesh. 

Christiania!  It  is  always  natural  beauty  that  chiefly 
elicits  my  admiration.  So  I  ascended  alone  the  Frognesater, 
first  enjoying  there  in  quiet  contemplation,  and  then  on 
Oscar  Hall,  the  view  over  the  country,  the  city,  and  the  har- 
bour, where  hundreds  of  white  sails,  large  and  small,  amongst 
great  ships,  flew  over  the  blue  level  of  the  sea  in  the  gold  and 
orange  light  of  evening.  The  next  day  I  clasped  mamma  in 
my  arms,  who  had  come  to  me  by  way  of  Copenhagen.  In 
the  evening  we  strolled  through  the  city.  Children  played 
in  the  streets,  people  went  about  their  business,  as  though 
it  were  early  in  the  day,  everything  lived  and  moved,  and 
yet  it  was  half  after  ten  at  night,  and  the  sun  was  just  begin- 
ning to  incline,  blood  red,  towards  the  western  horizon. 

The  first  fjord  that  I  saw,  at  Ringericke,  made  a  truly 
immeasurable  impression  on  me.  We  drove,  by  carriage, 
over  a  good  high  road  out  from  Christiania  for  from  two  to 
three  hours,  through  tropical  vegetation,  past  small  hills, 
many  mills,  and  fine  summer  residences.  Then  the  country 
became  desolate,  and  without  houses  or  people.  A  huge 
rock  seemed  to  close  the  way,  but  a  tunnel  led  through  it 
that  one  did  not  suspect,  and  suddenly  a  view  opened  over 
the  lonely  fjord,  surrounded  by  high  bald  grey  rocks  that 
sometimes  scintillated  with  changing  colours.  The  blue 
sky  and  water,  the  absence  of  any  visible  living  being,  with 
nothing  but  sublime  solitude,  formed  an  ever  memorable 
picture  of  the  prof oundest  peace  and  eternal  rest ;  it  was  the 


268  My  Path  Through  Life 

goal  of  my  yearning  towards  the  north,  where  I  should  have 
liked  to  stay  forever. 

We  went  from  Christiania  to  Lillehammer,  from  where 
we  could  either  go  by  steamer  over  the  great  Mjosee  or  by 
the  just  opened  railway  to  Drontheim.  We  chose  the  latter. 

While  waiting  for  the  train  at  the  little  station,  I  heard 
two  elderly  ladies,  the  only  passengers  besides  ourselves, 
speaking  the  German  of  the  Palatinate.  Full  of  pleasure  I 
told  mamma,  and  must  have  spoken  so  loudly  that  both 
ladies  overheard  me,  for  immediately  afterwards  they 
stopped  in  front  of  us,  and  said:  "Yes,  we  belong  to  the 
Palatinate,  and  know  you  very  well ;  you  are  Lilli  Lehmann, 
and  this  is  Frau  Lehmann,  your  mother!"  We  were 
speechless,  but  the  puzzle  was  soon  solved.  The  two  ladies, 
officers'  widows,  were  intimate  friends  of  Aunt  Dall*  Armi's 
daughter,  Frau  Hanauer.  They  had  been  informed  by  her 
of  our  northern  journey,  knew  us  well  from  pictures,  and 
so  had  no  difficulty  in  recognising  us.  They  studied  some 
language  every  year  in  winter,  and  travelled  in  that  country 
during  the  summer;  they  had  very  little  baggage,  and  were 
excellent,  bright,  practical  travellers  despite  their  fifty  years. 
We  continued  together  as  far  as  Drontheim,  then  made 
excursions  to  various  waterfalls,  and  separated  only  because 
they  went  on  to  the  North  Cape  and  we  to  Molde. 

Lilacs  and  laburnums  were  just  in  bloom  at  Molde  at  the 
simple  little  hotel, — a  lovely  cliff  picture.  Even  a  seal  lay 
on  the  shore,  but  it  disappeared  as  soon  as  we  approached 
it.  In  order  to  get  a  view  of  the  open  sea,  I  attempted  to 
ascend  a  mountain  behind  the  hotel  one  evening,  and  went 
through  forests,  over  rocks,  and  by  marshy  meadows,  ever 
higher  and  higher  without  reaching  the  top,  for  the  farther 
I  mounted  the  higher  towered  new  peaks  back  of  the  one 
I  had  just  ascended,  until  finally  I  gave  up  and  stood  still. 
Then  a  picture  presented  itself,  such  as  Hildebrandt  has 
painted,  and  which  I  never  took  for  real.  Far  beyond 
stretched  the  sea  before  me  in  a  golden  flood,  and  hundreds 


Stockholm,  1878-1879  269 

of  rock  ledges  lay  between,  dipped  in  gold;  scarcely  could 
the  eye  endure  the  radiance,  and  it  blinded  me.  Seeking 
protection  from  this  blaze  of  light,  I  turned  to  the  left, 
where  I  saw  the  hills  and  mountains  steeped  in  red  and 
violet,  and  this  gorgeous  colour  was  explained  when  I  myself 
stood  enveloped  in  little  clouds  of  mist  that,  red  and  violet 
in  tone,  swept  by  me.  As  the  mountains  became  paler  and 
darker  I  had  to  think  of  my  return,  for  it  was  late  and  I  was 
alone  on  the  marshy,  unknown,  trackless  peak. 

From  Molde  we  went  by  steamer  to  Veblingnas,  the 
entrance  to  the  Romsdal,  where  we  arrived  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  and,  after  some  hours,  we  drove  to  the  first 
night  station  in  a  small,  two-wheeled,  one-horse  carriage 
called  a  carriole.  As  we  turned  into  the  narrow  part  of  the 
valley  about  eleven  o'clock,  a  regular  sirocco  blew  towards 
us.  The  drive  became  steadily  hotter,  until  we  stopped  at 
a  blockhouse.  There  was  not  a  living  thing  to  be  seen. 
The  driver  got  the  house-key  out  of  some  hiding-place, 
unlocked  the  door,  led  us  into  a  room  with  two  beds,  set  a 
tub  of  thick,  sweet  cream  on  the  table,  added  "Knickebro" 
to  it,  said  "good-night,"  and  vanished.  It  tasted  fine  to 
me,  but  my  poor  old  mother,  who  could  not  bite  the  bread, 
went  hungry  to  bed.  We  could  not  think  of  leaving  the 
next  day.  The  sirocco  raged  so  that  we  had  to  cling  to 
each  other  if  we  only  wanted  to  cross  the  yard.  We  re- 
mained thirty-six  hours  in  this  rocky  wilderness,  surrounded 
by  high,  bare  mountains  like  dolomites.  As  there  was  no 
prospect  of  any  other  food  in  the  entire  valley,  which  it 
would  have  taken  from  four  to  five  days  to  go  through,  we 
changed  our  route  and  went  to  Gudbransdalen  over  a 
glorious  big  river,  that  poured  down  from  the  glaciers,  past 
Bjornson's  estate,  that  lay  rather  high  above  the  road  on  a 
green  meadowlike  hill,  and  arrived  after  a  four-hour  walk 
(my  mother  was  seventy-one  years  old)  at  a  blockhouse  that 
was  also  an  inn,  where  we  were  excellently  cared  for. 

A  fearful  rain-storm  began  towards  evening,  that  soon 


270  My  Path  Through  Life 

drove  us  into  the  high  peasant  beds,  where,  dead  tired,  we 
fell  asleep  at  once.  We  were  rudely  aroused  in  barely  three 
hours  by  loud  talking  and  calling,  and  we  heard  with  alarm 
that  our  anteroom,  into  which  opened  our  only  passage  in 
or  out,  was  filled  with  men.  As  soon  as  it  became  quiet,  we 
fell  asleep  again.  In  the  morning,  I  wanted  to  come  to 
an  understanding  with  the  innkeeper  about  continuing  our 
journey,  so  I  knocked  on  the  door  of  the  anteroom  about 
seven  o'clock,  and  a  strong,  youthful,  masculine  voice  called 
out,  "Come  in!"  I  entered,  and  saw  two  young  students 
lying  in  bed,  smoking  long  pipes.  On  my  return,  we  exe- 
cuted the  same  manoeuvre,  and  I  had  to  laugh  as  I  passed 
them.  When  mamma  and  I  were  ready  to  start  we  were 
compelled  to  pass  through  again,  but  the  students  were 
already  dressed,  and  they  assisted  me — as  they  spoke  a 
little  German — in  coming  to  an  agreement  with  the  inn- 
keeper. We  drove,  in  the  still  pouring  rain,  to  the  steamer 
landing  and  took  the  boat  to  Bergen. 

There  I  visited  the  fortress,  but  did  not  have  leisure  to 
see  more  of  the  environs,  for  my  dear  mother  began  to  feel 
very  unwell.  The  strange  physician  advised  us  to  go  home, 
and,  in  three  days,  we  were  on  board  the  steamer  that  carried 
us  thither.  One  met  English  people  almost  exclusively, 
who  crossed  from  the  British  Isles  in  their  own  yachts,  to 
devote  themselves  to  the  catching  of  salmon  in  the  large 
rivers  or  waterfalls  far  in  the  interior  of  the  country,  and 
who  could  travel  very  easily  in  their  floating  hotels,  that 
were  supplied  with  every  comfort.  Therefore  one  could 
get  along  well  by  speaking  English,  although  it  was  not 
universally  understood,  while  in  Sweden,  especially  in 
Stockholm,  French  was  in  the  ascendant.  I  often  noticed 
in  Norway  how  the  British,  when  paying  their  bills,  would 
reach  down  into  their  pockets,  pull  out  a  handful  of  change, 
and  hold  it  out  to  the  landlord  or  waiter,  who  would  help 
himself  to  the  amount  due  him.  Now,  after  thirty-three 
years,  things  may  be  different. 


Stockholm,  1878-1879  271 

We  changed  boats  at  Stavanger,  where  there  was  a 
splendid  basilica  to  be  seen,  in  the  choir  of  which  stands 
Thorwaldsen's  Christ,  that  produces  the  purest  impression 
by  its  simplicity ;  it  is  the  sole  ornament  of  the  entire  church. 
I  have  rarely  been  so  moved  by  the  view  of  a  sacred  edifice. 

I  climbed  up  into  the  choir,  where  stood  an  harmonium, 
and  sang  a  song,  after  preluding,  that  was  listened  to  only 
by  my  mother  and  the  doorkeeper. 

Mamma  recovered  rapidly  and  completely  after  our 
arrival  in  Berlin.  I  had  to  give  up  my  vacation  on  her 
account,  but  we  made  ourselves  comfortable  in  the  empty 
city.  Our  journey  had  been  beautiful,  despite  the  bad 
ending,  but  for  mamma,  it  had  been  too  fatiguing.  I  came 
back,  however,  enriched  by  mighty  impressions,  without 
suspecting  that  the  greatest  sorrow  of  my  life  was  not  to 
be  much  longer  averted. 

The  strength  of  the  impression  that  great  artists  exert 
on  young  talent,  the  revelation  of  the  expression  of  that 
which  youthful  persons  still  hide  shyly  in  their  own  souls, 
and  which  they  see  and  hear  before  them  in  artistic  form, 
cannot  be  compared  with  any  other  gain  for  the  essence  of 
art.  To  see  vividly  expressed  what  moves  others,  what  they 
rage  at,  love,  renounce,  and  suffer,  combined  with  individual 
artistry,  is  what  triumphantly  transports  and  charms  the 
listener  and  spectator.  I  was,  at  last,  to  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  recognising  in  two  great  Italians  the  grand  tech- 
nique of  dramatic  art.  I  do  not  mean  by  that  the  technique 
that  is  generally  described  as  "routine,"  and  that  speaks 
neither  of  art  nor  of  individuality,  and  which  many  come- 
dians adhere  to  on  and  outside  of  the  stage;  no,  I  mean  those 
few  select  artists,  who,  aside  from  their  varied  acquirements, 
give  their  own  inmost  selves  at  discretion,  thus  representing 
"human  beings"  in  a  real  sense,  historically  or  psychically 
interesting  characters,  and  rise,  thereby,  to  true  individ- 
uality in  their  work. 

Towards  the  close  of  1870,  Adelaide  Ristori  played  an 


272  My  Path  Through  Life 

engagement  with  an  Italian  company  at  the  National 
Theatre  in  Berlin,  appearing  as  Elisabetta,  Maria  Antonietta, 
Lady  Macbeth,  Maria  Stuart,  etc. 

Her  colossal  art  opened  my  eyes  to  dramatic  art  in 
general  as  well  as  to  the  Italian  in  particular.  What  was 
not  this  woman  capable  of,  and  how  little  was  one  aware  of 
her  age,  which  one  completely  forgot  through  her  great  art; 
for  example,  when  she,  as  the  sixteen-year-old  Queen  Maria 
Antonietta,  induced  her  weak  husband,  Louis  XVI,  by  means 
of  a  couple  of  amiable  words  and  a  relaxed  finger  action  of 
her  most  sensitive  hands,  to  go  with  her  to  Trianon.  I 
learned  from  her  and  Rossi  to  work  out  rdles,  and  I  perceived 
that  all  I  had  done  up  till  then  was  simply  nothing  in  com- 
parison with  the  boundless  artistic  treasures  and  accom- 
plishments of  the  technical  means  which  these  two  great 
artists  had  at  command,  and  which  they,  like  other  great 
masters,  had  acquired  only  by  incessant  study. 

I  became  acquainted  with  Rossi  on  the  occasion  of  his 
second  star  engagement,  which  took  place  at  the  Royal 
Theatre.  He  sought  an  introduction  to  me,  visited  me,  and 
told  me  that  he  had  studied  on  Hamlet  alone  for  eight  years 
before  he  presented  himself  in  it,  and  that  he  needed  to  give 
the  most  assiduous  study  to  each  part  for  many  years,  until 
he  was  certain  of  his  comprehension  of  it.  He  thrilled  us 
as  Othello  and  Lear.  After  he  had  ended  his  first  engage- 
ment with  Lear,  Edwin  Booth  appeared  in  it  a  few  days  later, 
and  it  was  extraordinary  to  see  how  entirely  differently  in 
temperament  the  two  great  actors  had  conceived  the  part. 
Rossi  was  the  cloud-storming  hothead;  Booth  the  resigned 
old  man,  craving  rest;  and  yet  to  my  eyes  and  feelings,  both 
of  these  monarchs  of  the  stage,  through  their  art,  fully  dis- 
charged their  debt  to  Shakespeare. 

These  engagements  enlarged  my  vision,  and  it  is  not 
remarkable  that,  some  years  later,  a  strange  lady  in  America, 
who  saw  me  as  Brunhilde  in  the  Gotterddmmerung,  said  to 
her  neighbour,  whom  she  did  not  know  but  who  was  an 


Stockholm,  1878-1879  273 

acquaintance  of  mine,  "  She  reminds  me  of  Adelaide  Ristori. " 
One  must  not  misunderstand  me ;  I  am  only  seeking  to  prove 
how  lasting  was  the  impression  made  on  me.  No  one  can 
blame  me  that  I  took  her  "capacity"  as  an  example  for  my- 
self. But  I  pity  those  who  permitted  such  great  models  to 
pass  by  without  profiting  from  them  by  learning,  from  see- 
ing and  hearing  all  that  could  be  got  in  that  way,  how  to 
transplant  it  as  a  noble  sprig  for  the  good  of  art  and  their 
own  individuality. 

Unhappily,  people  to-day  are  superior  to  the  art  of  the 
great  tragedians  of  those  days,  who  were  able  to  send  us 
into  ecstasies  by  their  individuality  and  their  immense 
ability,  because  they  succeeded  in  developing  individuality 
out  of  the  specially  prominent  figures  which  the  poet  had 
already  created.  Instead,  much  is  made  of  the  realism  of 
the  dramatic  art  of  the  present  day,  which  permits  the 
individuality  of  the  artists  to  be  drilled  and  compressed,  by 
the  management,  into  insipid  colourless  creatures  upon  whom 
one  turns  his  back  only  too  gladly.  To  show  one's  good-will, 
one  attempts  over  and  over  again  to  concentrate  his  interest 
on  this  that  is  "new  and  insignificant" — for  the  "disgusting 
and  the  vulgar"  I  eliminate  at  once.  It  is  all  in  vain; 
after  five  minutes,  one  loses  interest  or  is  bored  by  the 
unindividual,  inartistic,  that  is,  would-be  realistic  art  of 
the  theatre  of  to-day,  and  can  leave  the  house  after  the  first 
act,  consoled  by  the  consciousness  that  one  is  losing  nothing 
by  remaining  away. 

It  is  most  natural  that  exact  knowledge  of  a  great  tech- 
nical method  should  create  a  certain  style  in  those  who  stand 
outside  the  repertoire  factory,  and  who  are  engaged,  all 
their  lives,  with  only  a  few  of  their  favourite  parts.  Not  to 
become  too  typical  in  attitudes  and  movements  is  then  the 
chief  task  of  the  artist,  which  I  would  express  as  follows: 
it  is  the  study  of  artistic  technique,  which,  in  itself,  is  always 
combined  with  exaggeration,  for  it  concerns  us  visibly  and 
audibly,  that  is  to  say,  it  aims  to  make  comprehensive  to 


18 


274  My  Path  Through  Life 

others,  in  large  spaces,  our  own  finest  sentiment  for  some- 
thing or  other,  which  is  the  finer  the  more  complex  it  is. 
Artistic  technique  must  attain  to  the  proportions  of  beauty 
through  the  esthetics  of  the  soul,  and  only  thereby  can  it, 
seemingly,  become  nature. 

Goethe  says  this  more  concisely : 

Nature  and  art  seem  to  have  fled  each  other, 
And  yet,  before  one  is  aware,  have  come  together. 


London 

1880-1881 


NOW  that  I  was  counted  by  Hulsen  among  the  birds  of 
passage,  I  took  flight,  this  time  to  London,  to  acquit 
myself  in  a  short  engagement  under  the  old  impresario,  Col- 
onel Mapleson,  so  that  I  should  be  held  in  respect  by  the  pub- 
lic. Mapleson  had  had  for  decades  a  celebrated  Italian  opera 
season,  first,  at  Covent  Garden,  and  then  at  the  new  Her 
Majesty's  Theatre  in  the  Haymarket.  He  gathered  to- 
gether annually  the  greatest  stars,  understood  much  about 
art,  conducted  his  business  usually  with  a  balance  on  the 
wrong  side  of  his  books,  and,  although  perpetually  in 
financial  difficulties,  was  always  able  to  extricate  himself 
cleverly.  He  enjoyed  the  confidence  of  both  the  public 
and  the  profession,  though  many  of  the  latter  were  so  pru- 
dent that  they  had  their  salaries  paid  in  advance,  I  drew 
mine,  usually,  on  the  day  of  a  Patti  appearance,  waiting 
patiently  in  the  office  until  the  money  had  been  taken  in 
at  the  box  office,  and  then  it  was  promptly  paid  out  and 
I  received  it.  Accustomed  to  well-ordered  conditions,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  this  way  of  doing  the  season's  business 
was  wholly  unworthy  of  the  English  capital.  I  sang 
Traviata  twice,  and  Philine  in  Mignon  twice,  also,  with 
genuine  success.  Mignon  was  then  Christine  Nilsson's  best 
part;  she  was  unwomanly  as  Margarethe,  and,  as  Elsa,  she 

275 


276  My  Path  Through  Life 

comported  herself  like  a  student  in  disguise.  She  went 
astray  in  the  second  duet  with  Ortrud,  lost  herself  entirely, 
and,  instead  of  getting  in  again  without  attracting  attention, 
she  laughed  aloud,  turned  her  back  to  the  audience,  and  did 
not  sing  another  note  until  Lohengrin's  entrance.  I  could 
never  see  Christine  Nilsson  again  without  recalling  her 
unworthy  behaviour.  Trebelli's  contralto  voice,  that  had 
once  been  so  gloriously  velvety,  had  gone  down  into  a  pure 
bass.  She  still  sang,  but  only  the  smaller  parts,  as  for 
instance,  Friedrich  in  Mignon,  that,  with  us,  was  always  done 
by  a  tenor.  Campanini  was  not  only  admirable  as  Lohen- 
grin, Alfredo,  and  Wilhelm  Meister,  but  he  sang  and  acted 
everything  superbly.  Galassi  was  a  good  baritone,  and 
Arditi  an  excellent  conscientious  conductor.  These  three 
last-named  artists  were  to  be  taken  seriously,  which  was  not 
always  so  with  the  others,  although,  of  course,  very  excellent 
all-round  performances  were  given  as  a  whole,  over  which  a 
specially  favourable  star  was  watching. 

Though  my  engagement,  also,  had  a  brilliant  aspect  to 
outsiders  it  did  not  give  me  the  anticipated  pleasure.  Ma- 
pleson,  who  predicted  a  great  future  for  me,  implored  me 
to  persevere,  and  to  return  annually,  because  the  English- 
man remains  loyal  to  an  artist  for  life  as  soon  as  he  has 
become  accustomed  to  him.  After  any  one  has  sung  in 
London  for  ten  successive  years  he  needs  neither  a  voice  nor 
anything  else,  as  he  is  secure  for  all  time.  Mapleson  con- 
sidered me  the  only  person  predestined  to  follow  in  the 
footprints  of  Tietjens,  who  was  adored  by  England  and  by 
him,  and  he  entreated  me  to  sing  there  at  once,  Fidelio, 
Norma,  Donna  Anna,  and  Valentine.  But  I  did  not  feel 
that  I  had  grown  up  to  these  tasks,  and  so  we  both  had  to 
wait  for  me  to  perfect  myself. 

The  Princess  Friedrich  Karl  had  personally  given  me 
an  autograph  letter  to  her  daughter,  the  Duchess  of  Con- 
naught;  and  Lord  Ampthill  and  Count  Perponcher  had 
provided  me  with  at  least  a  dozen  to  other  influential  people. 


London,  1880-1881  277 

The  Duchess  received  me  most  amiably  at  Buckingham 
Palace,  but  Count  Munster,  who  was  then  our  Ambassa- 
dor, did  nothing,  and  I  did  not  present  my  other  letters, 
because  Mapleson  declared  them  useless  in  London,  where 
only  custom  ruled,  and  said  that  "good  singing"  was  the 
best  recommendation. 

Mamma  and  I  lived  in  a  small  French  hotel,  "Dieu- 
donne, "  in  St.  James  Street.  We  had  a  pretty  drawing- 
room  with  a  balcony,  and  a  bedroom  on  the  first  floor,  and 
we  slept  together  in  an  immense,  genuinely  English  bed 
that  we  both  found  uncomfortable.  When  we  lay  beside 
each  other  at  night,  and  folded  our  hands,  we  exactly  re- 
sembled the  married  couples  carved  in  stone  on  a  sarcopha- 
gus. The  situation  did  not  improve  until  we  got  separate 
covers  for  ourselves.  Anton  Rubinstein  had  occupied  this 
apartment  before  us,  and  his  cigarettes  were  still  lying 
there.  Saint-Saens  lived  next  to  us  and  a  Spanish  singer, 
Pagans,  was  above.  Nearly  the  whole  Comedie  Fran- 
caise  from  Paris,  which  had  been  giving  performances  for 
several  weeks,  was  staying  in  this  hotel,  and,  in  addition, 
some  French  painters,  Mr.  Poilpot  amongst  them,  who  won 
our  hearts  by  taking  in  all  sorts  of  starving  dogs. 

Madame  Dieudonne,  a  very  bright  widow,  together  with 
her  brothers  and  sisters,  knew  how  to  make  the  house  attrac- 
tive, though  it  was  sometimes  too  noisy  for  us.  There 
was  much  music,  as  one  can  imagine,  and  there  was  often 
talking  on  the  stairs  and  in  the  passages  until  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  although,  according  to  the  orders  of  the 
police,  the  house  had  to  be  closed  punctually  at  eleven,  and 
the  lights  put  out  in  the  restaurant.  If,  after  midnight,  we 
returned  from  the  opera  and  the  actors  from  the  Comedie, 
we  all  supped  together  with  the  shutters  carefully  closed, 
and  no  one  dared  speak  a  loud  word.  But  on  the  days 
when  there  was  no  performance,  we  stayed  together  in  the 
tiny  parlor  after  dinner,  and  it  was  both  noisy  and  lively. 
The  most  daring  of  them  all  was  Saint-Saens;  he  reminded 


278  My  Path  Through  Life 

me  strongly  of  Hans  von  Bulow,  who  could  be  just  as  un- 
restrained. Saint-Saens  would  sing  Rosine's  aria  in  falsetto, 
with  the  craziest  fioriture  and  trills,  until  one  rolled  about 
with  laughter.  He  imitated  wonderfully  "Rosine  and  her 
Strakoschonerie,"  as  Rossini  once  said  to  the  youthful  Patti, 
who  had  sung  his  aria  for  him  with  a  thousand  charges 
by  her  brother-in-law,  Strakosch.  Pagans  had  a  drawling 
voice,  but  the  style  and  manner  of  this  Spaniard's  singing 
interested  me  extremely ;  his  melancholy  notes  warmed  me, 
for  in  them,  the  glissando,  drawn  in  quarter  tones,  insinu- 
ated itself  with  peculiar  charm  into  the  ear,  an  effect  that  is 
indeed  unique  with  the  Spaniards.  The  French  performed 
scenes,  and  I  contributed  my  share,  also,  by  giving  German 
Lieder,  accompanied  by  Saint-Saens. 

London  was  not  strange  to  me.  Shakespeare  had 
taught  me,  from  my  youth  up,  to  know  every  stone  and 
every  spot,  every  house  and  every  street  in  it.  Shakespeare! 
Through  him  I  knew  London,  and  greeted  it  like  a  friend, 
like  an  old  memory.  I  attached  myself  to  it  with  tenderness, 
or  rather  I  clung  to  Shakespeare,  and  to  all  that  he  had  ever 
given  us.  I  increased  my  knowledge  in  museums  and 
galleries ;  I  admired  certain  things  all  day  long,  and  impressed 
others  on  my  memory.  Then  we  wandered  for  hours  at  a 
stretch  through  Richmond,  Windsor,  Virginia  Water,  etc., 
through  luxuriant  gardens  and  glorious  parks.  In  good 
weather  London  is  beautiful  and  earnest.  What  is  hor- 
rible in  the  life  of  this  city  of  six  millions  never  shocks 
me  there  in  the  same  degree  as  the  things  that  I  have  seen 
in  Paris.  The  indifference  of  the  English  people  is  soothing, 
and  makes  it  possible  to  "live"  in  the  huge  city.  Personal 
worth  and  courage  have  a  share  in  it,  although  the  individual 
counts  for  less  there,  perhaps,  than  in  other  places. 

But  the  fogs,  the  fogs !  those  lie  heavy  on  one's  head  and 
heart,  and  smother  every  pleasure.  Even  then,  in  June, 
dark  or  yellow  sulphur-like  clouds  rolled  into  the  room  at 
noon,  sometimes,  so  that  one  could  not  work  at  all,  even 


London,  1880-1881  279 

with  a  light.  The  season,  therefore,  was  delayed  until  the 
summer  months,  because  the  fogs  in  March  and  April  are 
still  worse.  At  those  times,  a  host  must  be  prepared  to  keep 
from  fifty  to  a  hundred  guests  at  his  house  overnight, 
because  no  one,  either  walking  or  driving,  can  find  his  way 
through  the  streets.  It  is  possible  for  a  man  to  stand  before 
his  own  house  and  not  be  able  to  discover  the  door.  The 
fearful  fogs  drove  us  away  also ;  we  yearned  for  the  blue  sky, 
German  soil,  and  German  conditions. 

I  returned,  however,  on  Mapleson's  invitation,  in  May, 
1 88 1,  and  was  to  have  sung  Aida,  in  addition  to  the  parts 
in  which  I  had  already  appeared.  In  the  hope  of  curing 
mamma's  cold,  we  went  to  Brighton  for  a  week,  where  her 
cough  grew  still  worse.  To  Mapleson's  horror,  I  let  Lon- 
don and  Aida  go  in  order  to  take  mamma  to  Marienbad, 
for  which  she  longed.  But  first  I  had  to  sing  again  with 
others,  at  the  Albert  Hall,  in  a  monster  artists'  concert,  for 
Mapleson's  benefit,  that  always  brought  him  in  an  immense 
sum  every  year,  and  in  which  all  the  artists  appeared  with- 
out pay.  This  time,  those  that  sang  were  Patti,  Nilsson, 
Gerster,  Trebelli,  my  humble  self,  and  Fraulein  Tremelli, 
really  Tremel,  a  Viennese,  who  asked  me  if  I  was  familiar  with 
the  hall,  otherwise  she  advised  me  to  look  at  it  before  my 
number  or  I  would  break  down.  I  knew  that  eight  thousand 
people  were  in  it,  but  I  neither  took  a  look  first  nor  did  I 
collapse,  and  I  sang  my  waltz  as  well  as  I  could.  Before 
our  departure,  we  had  the  pleasure  of  welcoming  our  old 
Uncle  Pauli  from  Cassel,  who  was  staying  in  London  on  a 
visit  to  his  married  son,  and  whom  we  met  in  this  immense 
city,  by  accident,  at  the  Tower,  although  he  lived  in  Canon- 
bury,  and  we  quite  at  the  other  end  of  the  world. 

Riezl,  who  had  replaced  me  during  my  leave  of  absence, 
had  arrived  in  London,  and  we  now  took  mamma  to  Marien- 
bad. I  had  always  detested  watering-places,  so  Riezl  and 
I  acted  on  a  sudden  inspiration,  and  went  straight  to  Rome 
for  a  week.  There  we  enjoyed  what  only  Rome  can  give. 


280  My  Path  Through  Life 

But  what  is  a  week  at  Rome?  We  were  not  prepared  with  a 
plan,  and  not  ripe  enough  for  it.  Now  that  I  am  ready 
to  live  through  quietly  this  inexhaustible  delight,  I  am 
afraid  of  seeing  the  wretchedness  of  the  animals  in  Italy, 
and  that  spoils  every  longing  I  feel  to  go  there.  This 
paradise  remains  closed  to  me,  but  what  I  then  saw  and 
felt  works  in  me  in  memory  more  powerfully,  perhaps,  than 
would  the  modernised  actual  Rome  of  to-day. 

Riezl's  leave  was  at  an  end  and  we  were  compelled  to 
tear  ourselves  away  from  Rome.  A  small  beggar  boy,  with 
great  black  eyes,  stood  on  the  platform,  and]silently  stretched 
out  one  hand  to  the  window  of  the  coupe,  while  he  stuffed 
fresh  almonds  in  his  mouth  with  the  other.  A  small  coin 
that  I  threw  him  vanished  in  his  little  jacket,  that  was  full 
of  darns  and  also  of  holes,  and  remained  there,  lost  some- 
where within.  I  can  still  see  his  beautiful  eyes,  and  the 
silent,  graceful  movement  of  the  small  Roman  beggar,  our 
last  impression  of  Rome. 


II 

THE  winter  of  1880  brought  me  a  longed-for  task,  that  of 
Venus  in  Tannhduser.  I  had  been  kept  waiting  for  it  a 
long  time.  For  many  years  it  had  been  first  in  impossible 
and  then  in  inadequate  hands.  Did  no  one  understand  what 
was  due  this  r61e?  Where  was  the  intellectual  power,  the 
divine  revelling  in  beauty,  in  the  riches  of  love,  and  in  the 
luxurious,  prodigal  "letting  go  of  one's  self"?  There  was 
no  indication  of  triumph,  happiness,  despair,  or  anger. 
Nothing  was  heard  but  a  handful  of  notes,  and  nothing  was 
to  be  seen  at  the  best  but — a  painted  doll.  It  was  different 
when  Albert  Niemann  and  I  sang  and  acted  the  scene. 

Only  a  few  days  later  Rubinstein's  Nero  was  given  with 
Niemann,  Betz,  Mallinger,  and  me  as  Poppaea,  in  the  caste; 
a  difficult  but  grateful  task  for  me  that  received  recognition, 


London,  1880-1881  281 

indeed,  but,  unfortunately,  did  not  pay,  because  the  opera 
was  given  only  six  times.  February  of  '81  brought 
Mozart's  Idomeneo,  that  had  been  newly  studied,  with  Nie- 
mann,  Betz,  Brandt,  Voggenhuber  and  me,  a  great  per- 
formance on  the  part  of  my  colleagues.  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew,  (Der  Wider spenstigen  Zahmung],  by  Gotz,  had  its 
first  production  on  March  i8th,  in  which  I  was  Katharina, 
and  Fricke,  especially,  as  Baptista,  did  a  very  fine  piece  of 
work  that  was  full  of  humour.  The  opera  remained  in  the 
repertoire.  One  might  think  that  I  had  no  reason  to  com- 
plain, either  of  too  little  employment  or  of  bad  parts,  but  I 
did  in  fact  have  cause  enough,  for  I  was  treated  as  though 
I  belonged  to  the  second-rate  artists.  Most  of  the  good 
roles  I  received  only  when  others  could  not  sing  them  or  re- 
fused them  for  other  reasons,  and,  suddenly,  an  open  rupture 
came  between  Hulsen  and  myself. 

Betz  had  long  desired  to  sing  the  part  of  Hoeel  in 
Meyerbeer's  Dinorah,  and  begged  me  to  propose  the  work  to 
Hulsen  with  myself  as  Dinorah.  I  did  so,  but  Hulsen  re- 
plied that  he  would  not  give  D .  Nothing  more  had  been 

said  about  it,  when  I  read  one  day  that  the  Royal  Opera 
intended  to  revive  Meyerbeer's  Dinorah.  As  soon  as  I  saw 
Hulsen  I  expressed  to  him  my  pleasure  in  the  news,  where- 
upon he  observed  that  not  I  but  Fraulein  E.  T would 

sing  the  part.  Starting  up,  I  said  shortly,  "Then,  Your 
Excellency,  permit  me  to  ask  for  my  discharge,"  to  which 
he  replied,  "Do  whatever  you  think  you  ought  to  do." 

E.  T was  a  pretty  young  girl  of  Italian  origin,  engaged 

for  Minnie  Hauk,  who  had  come  to  us  from  Vienna,  where 
they  could  not  use  her  as  a  singer.  The  conductors  there 
had  made  observations  several  times  at  rehearsals  such 

as,  "Now  come  the  trills  which  Fraulein  T will  first 

study, "  and  other  similar  remarks.  I  must  state,  in  advance, 
that  she  was  not  only  a  pretty  but  also  a  nice  girl,  which,  how- 
ever, did  not  prevent  her  little  voice  sounding  like  broken 
glass,  and  neither  musically  nor  dramatically  could  she 


282  My  Path  Through  Life 

make  the  least  claim  to  professional  standing,  nor,  perhaps, 
did  she  make  it  herself,  for  she  was  modest. 

Before  she  began  on  her  engagement  Blondchen,  Despina, 
etc.,  had  already  been  taken  away  from  me,  without  a 

thought  whether  E.  T could  sing  them.  And  now  she, 

who  was  artistically  so  much  my  inferior,  was  to  sing 

Dinorah,  the  opera  that  had  just  been  mentioned  as  D ! 

I  at  once  requested  His  Majesty,  the  Emperor,  to  grant 
me  my  discharge,  stating  my  reasons  in  full,  and  asked 
Hulsen,  through  whose  hands  my  letter  had  to  go,  to  for- 
ward my  petition,  and  to  inform  me  of  the  result  as  quickly 
as  possible.  Many  weeks  passed  without  an  answer  coming 
to  me  in  any  form. 

As  the  silence  at  last  became  painful  to  me,  and  I  wanted 
to  talk  the  affair  over  quietly  and  objectively  with  some  one, 
I  asked  our  old  colleague,  Fricke,  if  he  would  come  to  see  me 
about  a  matter  that  was  very  pressing  for  me.  The  next 
day  I  told  him  all,  and  asked  for  his  advice.  Fricke  replied 
with  the  very  extraordinary  words:  "Don't  you  know, 
then,  what  is  in  the  newspaper  about  you?"  "In  what 
newspaper?"  "Well,  in — "  and  he  gave  the  name.  "What 
is  it?"  I  asked.  "I  cannot  tell  you  that  very  well;  get  for 
yourself  the  issue  of  such  and  such  a  date." 

Fricke  left,  and  I  rushed — although  it  was  Sunday — to 
the  office  of  the  paper  on  the  Gensdarmenmarkt.  I  knew 
the  owner  socially.  There  was  only  an  employee  in  the 
office,  who  laid  before  me,  at  my  request,  a  great  pile  of 
papers.  I  seized  upon  them  at  random,  and  soon  had 
the  notice  in  my  hands.  It  ran  thus: 

Concerning  Fraulein  Lilli  Lehmann's  request  for  her  dis- 
charge, no  decision  has  yet  come  from  the  Emperor.  We  think 
we  should  mention,  moreover,  that  according  to  all  appearances, 
it  is  principally  personal  reasons  that  are  at  the  bottom  of  this 
petition  for  a  discharge,  and  the  question  of  the  filling  of  a  part 
serves  only  as  an  excuse.  Fraulein  Lehmann  is  much  out  of 
health,  and  sees  the  necessity  before  her  of  being  absent  from  the 


London,  1880-1881  283 

stage  for  a  number  of  months  continuously,  when  she  will, 
without  question,  be  able  again  to  return  to  it.  She  has  perhaps 
been  unwise  in  tendering  her  petition  for  a  discharge,  as,  under 
the  circumstances,  the  necessary  leave  of  absence  could  not  well 
be  refused  her.  We  have  already  stated  that  the  request  for  a 
discharge  will  not  be  accorded. 

Trembling  all  over,  I  ran  with  this  at  once  to  Councillor 
of  Justice  Laue  to  ask  his  advice.  After  he  had  read  it, 
he  said:  "You  can  do  nothing  about  this;  there  is  abso- 
lutely nothing  in  it  that  one  can  seize  upon;  of  course  you 
can  read  what  you  choose  between  the  lines." 

"What  shall  I  do  then?  horsewhip  him?" 

"Oh,   you  won't  do  that!" 

"I  certainly  shall,  Herr  Councillor,  for  how  can  I  get 
justice  if  I  cannot  bring  an  action  against  the  slanderer?" 
The  Councillor  smiled,  but  could  not  help  me.  So  I  went 
homewith  a  heavy  heart,  and  told  everything  to  my  mother, 
who  was  naturally  beside  herself. 

I  went  to  the  newspaper  office  again  the  next  day,  but 
the  editor-in-chief  and  the  owner  were  not  there,  and  it  was 
no  different  the  day  following.  On  the  third  day  I  was  told 
the  same  thing,  whereupon,  thoroughly  aroused,  I  asked, 
"  Is  the  gentleman  never  to  be  found  then?  "  A  shrug  of  the 
shoulders  was  my  reply,  and  I  had  to  return  home  again 
without  having  effected  my  object.  I  was  going  to  try  my 
luck  once  more  on  the  fourth  day  when,  as  I  was  leaving,  a 
young  court  actor,  Stockhausen,  was  announced,  whom  I 
refused  to  see.  Herr  Stockhausen  requested  again,  insist- 
ently, that  he  be  admitted,  so  I  had  him  shown  in,  and  asked 
him  to  be  brief  as  I  was  obliged  to  go  out.  Herr  Stock- 
hausen, whom  I  knew  only  from  seeing  him  in  the  opera  box, 
came  to  pay  me  a  farewell  call  as  he  intended  to  leave 
Berlin — I  do  not  know  for  what  reason.  Time  pressed;  I 
went  downstairs  with  him  and  he  accompanied  me  a  few 
steps.  I  finally  told  him  of  my  vain  attempts  to  meet  the 
newspaper  gentlemen,  and  that  I  was  just  about  to  go  in 


284  My  Path  Through  Life 

search  of  them  afresh.  Herr  Stockhausen  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  go  with  me,  but  I  gratefully  declined  his  escort. 
He  insisted,  however,  and  said  that  it  would  be  better  to 
make  the  trip  under  masculine  protection,  so  I  yielded  and 
accepted  his  companionship. 

This  time  I  was  more  lucky,  for,  as  I  surveyed  the  scene 
from  the  corner  of  the  Gensdarmenmarkt,  I  saw  the  editor- 
in-chief  in  front  of  me,  disappearing  into  the  office  building. 
I  ran  after  him,  caught  him  on  the  stairway,  stood  in  front 
of  him,  and  said,  "I  have  need  of  a  talk  with  you!"  As  it 
was  too  late  for  him  to  escape,  he  asked  me  to  go  up,  after 
I  had  introduced  Herr  Stockhausen.  The  gentlemen  in  the 
office  looked  very  glum,  as  they  could  surmise  that  they 
might  prepare  themselves  for  something  special.  When  we 
were  seated  in  the  room  of  the  editor-in-chief  and  the  owner, 
I  began  the  enquiry: 

"See  here,  this  notice  appeared  in  your  paper." 

"Yes,  I  am  very  sorry  that  it  was  accepted." 

"By  whom  was  it  written?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"Who  is  the  responsible  editor?" 

"lam." 

"How  did  the  notice  get  in  the  paper  without  your 
knowledge?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"If  you  are  the  responsible  editor  must  you  not  have 
read  it?" 

"Yes,  certainly." 

"Will  you  retract  this  article?" 

"Yes,  but " 

"Will  you  retract  this  article,  I  ask,  and  in  all  the  other 
newspapers,  also,  in  which  it  has  been  copied?" 

"Pardon  me,  this  tone " 

"You  have  no  right  to  speak  as  though  you  have  the 
choice  of  retracting  or  not;  my  tone  is  such  as  is  suited  to 
your  article.  Will  you  do  it?" 


London,  1880-1881  285 


!But- 


And  then  I  could  not  contain  myself  any  longer,  and  I  boxed 
the  ears  of  the  wretch  for  his  unexampled  coarseness  towards 
me  and  my  profession,  which  he  believed  he  might  indulge 
in  without  being  called  to  account. 

Turning  around  I  felt  a  hand  on  my  neck  for  just  an 
instant,  and,  immediately  afterward,  I  heard  something 
crack.  Without  looking  about,  I  walked  through  the  ad- 
joining room  with  my  head  held  high  and  without  a  word  or 
a  bow.  On  reaching  the  street  I  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 
Herr  Stockhausen  led  me  to  a  cab,  and  told  me  that  the 
villain  had  tried  to  take  hold  of  me,  but  he  had  seized  him 
from  behind,  and  had  flung  him  down  on  a  sofa.  So  it  was 
well  that  I  had  had  the  protection  of  a  man,  and  I  gave 
thanks  for  the  chance  that  had  brought  it  to  me  at  the 
right  time. 

I  reached  home  in  tears,  and  could  only  call  out  with 
sobs  to  my  mother,  "He  has  got  it."  "For  heaven's  sake, 
Lilli,  he  will  revenge  himself  on  you!"  cried  mamma.  "He 
will  leave  me  alone,"  I  replied,  and  breathed  easily  again, 
in  the  full  conviction  of  having  done  a  good  deed. 

In  the  evening,  when  I  had  recovered  from  the  shock, 
I  went  to  the  opera-house  and  told  Niemann  and  Betz  about 
it,  who  both  embraced  me.  I  went,  also,  to  the  editorial 
rooms  of  a  respectable  paper,  to  give  an  accurate  report, 
so  that  no  garbled  account  would  appear  in  the  press.  It 
first  became  known  at  Siechen's,  and. the  news  spread  like 
wild-fire  through  the  whole  city.  The  next  evening  all  the 
windows  were  broken  at  the  office  of  the  "interesting" 
newspaper,  and  the  editor  was  given  a  charivari.  All  Berlin 
was  in  an  uproar.  Hulsen  asked  me  to  go  to  see  him,  to 
express  to  me,  on  behalf  of  the  Emperor,  how  much  the  latter 
was  pleased  with  my  courage,  although  he  could  not  quite 
sanction  the  box  on  the  ear.  Hulsen  entreated  me  to  take 
back  my  petition  for  my  discharge,  and  said  if  I  would 
only  stay  he  would  fulfil  all  my  wishes.  I  thought  it  over 


286  My  Path  Through  Life 

at  home  and  sent  him  my  conditions  from  there,  which  were 
that  he  would  grant  me  an  extra  three  months'  leave  of 
absence,  which  I  wanted  for  a  long  visiting  engagement  in 
Vienna,  and  it  was  allowed  me,  together  with  some  other 
minor  stipulations.  I  recalled  my  application  for  a  dis- 
charge, but  the  letter  relative  to  this  could  not  be  found,  and 
it  certainly  had  never  reached  the  hands  of  the  Emperor. 

Letters  and  flowers  rained  in  upon  me  during  the  next  few 
days,  and  I  received  telegrams  from  all  parts  of  Germany. 
Clubs  and  students'  associations  expressed  their  appreciation 
of  the  "brave  deed."  The  editor-in-chief  had  run  up  a  big 
score  against  himself.  For  years  he  had  had  the  impudence 
to  print  in  his  papers  articles  that  could  not  be  misunder- 
stood and  "interesting"  insinuations.  No  one,  even  those 
that  stood  highest,  amongst  the  ladies  who  were  before  the 
public,  no  young  girl  belonging  to  the  aristocracy,  to  society, 
or  the  theatre  was  safe  from  his  slanders,  and  not  seldom  had 
he  been  threatened  for  it,  but,  unfortunately,  only  threat- 
ened, so  he  had  continued  his  mischievous  course  without 
scruple  until  he  found  a  judge  in  me.  That  people  felt 
themselves  relieved  of  an  incubus  I  learned  from  the  thou- 
sands of  grateful  letters  and  comments  that  poured  in  upon 
me  from  every  side. 

A  few  days  later  the  house  was  sold  out  at  the  opera  for 
a  performance  of  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew.  I  had  not 
appeared  in  the  meantime,  and  the  public  had  reserved 
everything  for  that  evening.  Fraulein  Driese,  who  was 
sitting  on  the  stage,  as  Bianca,  when  the  curtain  rose,  was 
taken  for  me,  a  mistake  that  was  soon  perceived  when  I 
came  on  as  Katharina.  Now  the  storm  broke ;  there  were 
cheers,  applause,  a  never-ending  shower  of  flowers  and 
wreaths,  until  I  sobbed  aloud  from  emotion  and  excitement, 
and  was  able  to  master  my  agitation  only  by  exerting  tre- 
mendous energy.  The  audience,  naturally,  made  use  of 
every  opportunity  to  trace  a  connection  between  the  opera 
text  and  the  affair.  So  there  was  great  enthusiasm  when 


London,  1880-1881  287 

I  gave  Petruchio  a  little  box  on  the  ear  instead  of  the 
desired  kiss.  At  the  end  of  the  act  I  received  from  a 
sporting  club,  a  bouquet  of  white  roses,  the  size  of  a  carriage 
wheel,  with  a  switch  attached — which  was  not  to  my  taste — 
intended  to  express  the  thanks  of  the  club  for  attacks  on  the 
aristocratic  circles,  unavenged  until  then.  After  the  opera 
students  wanted  to  take  the  horses  out  of  my  carriage,  but 
the  police  interfered.  On  my  return  home  from  the  opera, 
I  found  a  keg  of  Culmbacher  beer  hung  with  garlands,  that 
had  been  sent  by  a  students'  organisation,  the  head  of 
which  begged  me  for  one  of  my  gloves,  which  I  sent  him,  and 
he  kept  it  there  for  a  long  time,  framed  and  under  glass. 

The  matter  had  many  consequences  as  it  is  easy  to 
imagine;  the  agitation  subsided  very  slowly,  the  more  so, 
as,  contrary  to  my  most  emphatic  wishes,  the  anti-semitic 
newspapers  made  great  capital  out  of  the  affair.  The  editor 
was  dead  to  me  and  to  Berlin,  and  he  had  dug  his  own  grave. 

And  if  he  is  not  really  dead, 
Then  lives  he  still  to-day. 


Dresden,  Prague,  Vienna 

1881-1882 

IN  addition  to  more-than-sufficient  occupation  in  Berlin,  the 
winter  of  1881-82  brought  me  many  concerts  and  visit- 
ing engagements  in  Dantzic,  Prague,  Dresden,  and  Vienna, 
besides  London.  I  should  never  have  believed  in  the 
possibility  of  Dresden,  for  my  sister  had  been  very  badly 
treated  there,  while  filling  a  special  engagement,  where  it 
was  said  of  every  role,  "Frau  Schuch  sings  that;  this  one  is 
too  good  a  part  of  hers";  so  that  extremely  few  satisfactory 
ones  remained  open  to  Riezl,  and  the  engagement  was  a 
failure  in  consequence.  Now  I  was  to  sing  in  the  place  of 
Frau  Schuch,  who  was  in  "an  interesting  condition,"  as 
often  as  my  time  permitted.  As  Hiilsen  granted  me  leave  of 
absence,  as  soon  as  it  could  be  done  without  upsetting  things 
at  Berlin,  I  had  arranged  with  Count  Platen,  the  Intendant, 
that  every  Saturday,  after  the  announcement  of  the  reper- 
toire, I  should  telegraph  my  free  days  to  Dresden,  and  the 
parts  that  I  should  have  to  sing  there  would  be  telegraphed 
back  to  me.  Finally,  the  choice  was  left  to  me,  and  no 
further  reply  was  needed. 

Now  I  could  sing  there  anything  I  wished,  and,  at  first, 
I  oscillated  for  five  months  back  and  forth  between  Dresden 
and  Berlin,  when  Hiilsen  said  to  me  one  night,  "My  dear 
Lehmann,  you  are  singing  constantly  at  Dresden;  why  do  I 
know  nothing  about  it?"  He  had  forgotten  our  agreement, 
and  I  continued  to  swing  quietly  back  and  forth.  The 

288 


Dresden,  Prague,  Vienna,  1881-1882      289 

Dresden  engagement  made  me  happy  and  was  brilliantly 
remunerative  to  the  opera-house.  It  is  no  wonder  that  we 
both  made  the  fullest  use  of  it;  I  sang  Carmen  there  eight 
times  among  other  rdles,  as  I  had  worked  it  out  very  elab- 
orately for  myself,  and  had  already  sung  it,  when  visiting 
at  Dantzic,  with  great  success.  Everybody  was  delighted 
with  the  animated  performances,  as  they  usually  are  with 
favourite  guests,  and  Schuch  and  I  sometimes  took  tempi 
that  were  not  badly  conceived. 

One  evening,  however,  when  I  appeared  again  as  Carmen, 
a  shudder  of  fear  ran  through  me,  for,  instead  of  Schuch, 
I  saw  Court  Conductor  Wullner  standing  at  the  desk,  whom 
I  revered  equally  as  man  and  musician,  but  with  whom  I  had 
never  done  the  opera.  What  in  the  name  of  heaven  was 
going  to  happen?  The  opera  that  night  was  begun  a  half- 
hour  earlier,  contrary  to  all  custom,  because  the  King  wished 
to  see  it,  and  he  had  issued  invitations  for  that  same  even- 
ing. Schuch  had  forgotten  this,  was  missing  when  it  was  time 
to  begin,  nor  could  he  be  found,  and  Wullner  had  jumped  in 
as  an  angel  of  salvation.  This  I  learned  only  when  I  had 
recovered  from  my  fright,  and  as,  in  the  middle  of  the 
Habanera,  I  saw  Schuch  rise  out  of  the  abyss  beside 
Wullner,  like  Banquo's  ghost,  and  Wullner  sink  beside 
Schuch.  Court  is  paid  to  any  one  who  pleases,  and  I  can 
truly  say  that  I  was  adored  by  the  Intendant,  his  wife, 
Schuch,  Wullner,  the  whole  company,  and  last,  but  not 
least,  by  the  public,  that  has  remained  loyal  to  me  up  to  the 
present  day. 

But  how  one  did  rise  in  his  profession  and  his  work  under 
the  guidance  of  such  a  brilliant  operatic  conductor  as 
Ernst  Schuch,  who  knew  how  to  lift  one  up  and  with  whom 
one  could  fly ;  who  did  not  cling  with  his  arms  like  a  ton  weight 
to  his  desk,  but  who  felt  and  breathed  with  the  singer,  and 
who  watched  the  latter's  mouth  instead  of  the  score.  Schuch 
allowed  the  spirit  of  art  to  hover  above  the  works  of  art, 
and  did  not  attach  leaden  weights  to  the  wings  that  bore  up 


290  My  Path  Through  Life 

the  artist.  But  there  could  be  merriment,  also,  together  with 
all  the  seriousness,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  Merry  Wives, 
when  Degele,  the  best  of  all  Beckmessers,  in  the  part  of 
Fluth,  pretended,  in  comical  madness,  that  he  could  not 
control  his  jealousy;  or  when  I,  appearing  with  Buls  and 
Erl  in  the  Wildschiitz,  before  the  da  capo  song  of  the  quartet, 
"Innocent  are  we  all,"  put  around  my  neck  my  immense 
laurel  wreaths  that  had  just  been  thrown  to  me. 

I  recall,  also  how  Riese,  the  heroic  tenor,  as  Manrico, 
while  Luna-Buls  gave  expression  in  the  first  act  to  his  thirst 
for  vengeance,  came  up  to  me  and  said,  loud  enough  to  be 
heard  in  the  first  rows  of  the  parquet,  "Do  not  be  afraid, 
Lilli;  he  can't  do  you  any  harm!"  As  I  hardly  knew  Riese 
then,  I  was  completely  taken  aback  by  this  fooling  in  the 
middle  of  the  serious  scene.  Riese  was  an  admirable  singer, 
but  so  short  that,  as  Leonore,  I  could  nestle  up  to  him  no 
closer  than  about  two  yards  distance. 

When  my  extra  leave  of  absence  began  on  April  1st, 
mamma  and  I  travelled  to  Vienna  by  way  of  Prague,  where 
I  opened  a  short  engagement  with  Carmen.  I  had  not 
been  in  Prague  again  since  the  beginning  of  my  theatrical 
career,  and  I  was  received  with  open  arms. 

On  April  17,  1882,  I  began  at  Vienna  what  I  might 
call  a  star  engagement  for  life,  for,  though  I  could  not  always 
respond  to  the  enticing  summons,  I  was  constantly  in  receipt 
of  calls  from  there,  and  I  went  as  often  as  I  could.  Vienna 
stood  for  a  very  high  standard  when  one  knew  what  was 
demanded  there,  and  how  difficult  it  was  to  satisfy  the 
public  and  the  critics.  But  I  conquered  as  the  Queen  in 
the  Hugenotten,  and  found  in  Vienna  a  second  musical  home 
from  that  day  forward.  This  was  followed  by  The  Taming 
of  the  Shrew,  Frau  Fluth,  Isabella,  Philine,  Donna  Elvira, 
Adalgisa,  Blondchen,  Konigin  der  Nacht,  Venus,  and 
Marzelline,  that,  repeated  in  different  ways,  ran  for  fifteen 
special  nights  in  two  months!  This  list  comprised  many 
of  Lucca's  r61es,  so  it  was  no  small  matter  to  please  in  them, 


Dresden,  Prague,  Vienna,  1881-1882      291 

and  although,  at  first,  her  genius  still  cast  me  in  the  shade, 
yet  I  was  at  the  same  time  content  with  my  steadily  increas- 
ing success. 

In  Don  Juan,  Frau  Marie  Wilt  sang  Donna  Anna,  and 
I  heard  this  remarkable  singer  for  the  first  time.  I  was 
surprised  by  her  fresh,  youthful  voice,  but  was  likewise 
startled  by  her  lack  of  any  physical  charms.  The  Viennese 
public,  which  was  most  cordially  disposed  towards  her, 
frequently  burst  out  laughing  at  her  entrance,  but  became 
quiet  under  the  peculiar  magic  of  her  voice,  and  the  extra- 
ordinary technique  of  singing  which  this  woman  possessed. 
She  sometimes  indulged  in  the  experiment  of  singing  in  one 
evening  both  the  Princess  and  Alice  in  Robert,  who  are  never 
engaged  at  the  same  time,  or  Valentine  and  the  Queen  in 
the  Hugenotten,  which  was  the  merest  trifle  to  a  singer  of  her 
power  and  artistic  superiority.  She  was  a  wonderful 
woman!  Educated  to  be  a  piano  player,  her  voice  was 
discovered  late,  and  she  was  thirty,  I  believe,  before  she 
appeared  on  the  stage.  Although  she  earned  large  sums, 
she  did  all  the  housework  at  home  herself,  and  was  extremely 
proud  of  standing  at  the  wash-tubs  in  the  morning  and 
singing  the  Queen  of  the  Night  in  the  evening.  Once  when 
I  sang  the  Princess  in  Robert  and  she  the  part  of  Alice,  she 
came  up  to  me  to  say,  "See  here,  now  I  can  never  sing  that 
again  after  you."  She  called  me,  "du, "  without  ever 
having  seen  me,  and  I  might  feel  conceited  from  her  approval, 
for  she  usually  liked  to  tear  young  singers  to  pieces,  and  did 
not  care  what  she  said.  Her  high  tones  and  her  artistic 
proficiency  in  singing  permitted  her  the  small  matter  of 
being  a  dramatic  and  a  colorature  singer  at  the  same  time. 
She  never  exerted  herself  dramatically,  indeed,  but  what  she 
gave  as  a  singer  is  unique  in  the  history  of  the  art  of  singing. 
She  knew  better  than  any  one  that  she  was  ugly,  for  once, 
later  on,  when  I  said  to  her  before  the  "Mask"  trio,  in  which 
she  was  Anna,  I,  Elvira,  and  Walter,  Octavio,  that  she  ought 
to  remove  her  mask  on  account  of  the  fearful  heat,  as  there 


My  Path  Through  Life 

was  still  much  time  to  wait,  she  replied  simply,  "People  are 
glad  when  they  do  not  have  to  see  me."  Otherwise,  too, 
she  was  quite  sans-gene,  and  as  we  three  were  sitting  on  the 
three  well-known  historical  mask  chairs,  and  Walter  com- 
plained of  the  heat,  she  remarked  that  the  water  was  pouring 
off  her,  groped,  at  the  same  time,  in  her  bosom,  held  some- 
thing out  to  Walter  that  she  had  been  keeping  there,  and 
asked  him,  "Wouldn't  you  like  a  sugar  plum?"  Our 
voices  blended  beautifully  when  she  sang  Norma  and  I 
Adalgisa ;  it  was  a  delight  to  sing  with  her,  and  I  am  thankful 
that  I  had  that  pleasure  very  often. 

Marianne  Brandt,  also,  arrived  for  a  visiting  engagement, 
and  then  Wilt  was  Anna,  Brandt,  Elvira,  and  I  was  Zerline. 
Jahn  or  Hans  Richter  usually  conducted,  and  then  there 
was  the  splendid  orchestra,  the  glorious  chorus,  the  warm, 
impulsive  audience,  and  the  building  with  its  wonderful 
acoustics.  My  engagements  in  Vienna  always  meant  good 
luck,  happiness,  and  honour  for  me.  When  I  found  how  I 
was  received  here  and  everywhere,  I  had  no  more  doubts 
that  in  Berlin,  also,  I  might,  artistically,  make  just  claims. 

My  Vienna  engagement  suffered  an  interruption  of  a 
week,  when  my  duty  to  the  Music  Festival  of  the  Lower 
Rhine,  conducted  by  Franz  Wiillner,  called  me  to  Aix-la- 
Chapelle.  It  was  not  only  the  beautiful  journey  from 
Vienna  via  Salzburg  to  the  Rhine,  which  I  saw  revealed  in 
the  early  morning,  with  the  mountains  and  cities  bathed  in 
the  effulgence  of  sunrise,  that  quickened  my  heart-beats. 
T  sang  Josua  the  first  evening ;  on  the  second,  the  great  scene 
from  Armida  with  the  Fury  of  Hate,  and,  on  the  third, 
Isolde's  Liebestod,  which  we  were  forced  to  repeat.  The 
young  artist  realised  with  these  last  two  scenes  a  long- 
cherished  dream,  found  satisfaction  for  her  striving,  and 
fortified  her  courage  to  develop  towards  the  supreme  goal. 

There  is  still  another  charming  memory  connected  with 
that  concert  of  artists.  Hans  von  Bulow,  who  had  already 
accompanied  my  sister,  and  who  had  such  admiration  for 


Marie  Lehmann 

From  a  photograph  taken  in  Vienna  in  1895 


Dresden,  Prague,  Vienna,  1881-1882      293 

her  that  he  would  not  concertise  in  Leipsic  without  her, 
came  up  to  me  with  his  daughter,  Daniela,  at  a  rehearsal, 
saying,  "How  do  you  do,  Fraulein  Lehmann,  I  know  your 
sister  and  esteem  her  highly;  I  do  not  yet  know  you,  and 
cannot  yet  tell  whether  I  shall  esteem  you  likewise!"  With 
that  he  departed  to  mingle  in  the  ranks  of  the  listeners. 
The  next  day  at  the  artists'  concert  I  had  already  sung  the 
second  aria  from  the  Creation, — I  sat  on  the  platform,  hidden 
amongst  desks,  waiting  for  my  second  number.  Between 
times  Biilow  was  to  play  a  piano  concerto.  I  sat  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  piano,  and  heard  Biilow  for  the  first 
time.  I  was  able  to  observe  him  closely,  and  to  look  right 
into  his  face,  which  I  did  persistently,  thereby  compell- 
ing him  also  to  observe  me.  The  more  warmth  he  threw 
into  his  playing,  the  hotter  he  became  in  the  already  heated 
room.  I  could  hear  him  accompany  his  playing  with 
suppressed  expletives  of  rage  or  energy,  and  deliberately 
smiled  at  him  superciliously  whenever  his  glance  met 
mine.  When  he  had  ended — he  had  played  wonderfully — 
he  passed  close  by  me,  mopping  his  forehead,  and  said 
aloud,  "Great  Scott,  it  is  fearfully  hot  in  Fraulein  Leh- 
mann 's  shadow!"  From  that  moment  he  was  affability 
itself. 

I  met  him  at  a  dinner  at  the  house  of  Karl  Klindworth 
and  his  angelic  wife,  where  he  was  most  unconstrained  and 
daring,  and  could  not  use  enough  genuine  Berlin  expressions, 
which  he  sent  me  as  a  souvenir,  collected  in  book  form. 
How  very  merry  we  were  with  this  man  who  was  often  so 
peculiar.  Sometime  previous  to  this  meeting,  I  often  re- 
ceived gorgeous  flowers  accompanied  by  comic  verses  that 
were  signed,  "Caligula  Seidenschwanz."  I  failed  in  every 
effort  to  solve  the  riddle  until  Daniela  betrayed  her  father. 
Biilow  had  used  the  words,  "Circus  Hiilsen"  at  one  of  his 
symphony  concerts  about  a  performance  of  the  Prophet 
at  the  Royal  Opera  House,  and,  in  consequence,  was  shown 
out  when  he  next  went  there;  whereupon  Biilow  published 


294  My  Path  Through  Life 

an  angry  article  in  a  Berlin  paper  over  the  signature  of 
"  Caligula  Seidenschwanz." 

From  Aix-la-chapelle  I  hurried  back  to  Vienna,  where 
Niemann,  also,  had  now  arrived  for  a  visiting  engagement, 
which  he  began  with  Tannhduser,  and  I  had  the  part  of 
Venus.  Then  Fidelio  was  to  follow,  with  him  as  Flores- 
tan,  Marianne  Brandt  as  Leonore,  and  Frau  Dillner  as 
Marzelline. 

I  was  free  that  day,  and  I  went  to  seek  Beethoven's  grave 
with  Karl  Cech,  the  basso  who  had  once  dried  my  dishes, 
and  who  had  come  from  Prague.  Just  as  we,  much  im- 
pressed by  the  sight  of  the  precious  resting-place,  were  turn- 
ing our  steps  towards  home,  Herr  Schiitz,  of  Prague,  the 
husband  of  Frau  Dillner,  met  us,  and  told  us  that  his  wife  was 
ill  and  could  not  sing  that  evening.  I  reached  home  about 
two  o'clock,  and  mamma  informed  me  that  Jahn  had  already 
sent  for  me  several  times  and  that  I  must  go  at  once  to  the 
office.  Jahn  importuned  me  to  sing  Marzelline  that  night 
in  place  of  Frau  Dillner,  as  he  could  trust  it  to  no  one  but 
me.  Although  I  asked  him  to  reflect  that  it  was  not  a 
visiting  engagement  part,  he  kept  at  me  until  I  said  yes. 
The  audience  more  than  distinguished  me  at  the  least 
opportunity,  and  Hanslick  wrote  that  the  first  and  finest 
laurel  wreath  belonged  to  Fraulein  Lehmann  as  Mar- 
zelline. It  was  a  worthy  termination  to  my  visit  to 
Beethoven's  grave. 

I  had  now  sung  one  hundred  and  forty  times  in  ten 
months.  No  one  can  accuse  me  of  laziness,  if  to  that 
record  is  added  travelling  rehearsals,  and  newly  studied 
works,  with  all  the  emotional  strain  that  goes  with  this.  After 
I  had  sung  five  times  more  in  Prague,  and  my  sister  had 
quitted  that  city  to  begin  her  engagement  at  the  Court 
Opera  in  Vienna,  we  got  ready  quickly,  took  our  knapsacks 
on  our  backs,  and  hastened  to  the  mountains  to  get  our 
fill  of  walking.  At  first,  we  went  by  glorious  rushing 
streams,  where  we  would  have  liked  to  remain  sitting  all  day 


Dresden,  Prague,  Vienna,  1881-1882      295 

long  by  each  station,  then  to  Klagenfurt,  over  the  Worthersee 
to  Lienz,  and  on  up  to  the  Glocknerhaus,  where  there  was 
then  a  small  building  with  one  large  sleeping  room  in  which 
were  six  or  eight  beds,  and  a  smaller  room  where  we  slept. 
It  was  icy  cold;  as  no  one  else  was  spending  the  night  up 
there  we  fetched  one  cover  after  another  out  of  the  adjoining 
room,  until  we  were  sufficiently  warm.  We  went  on  very 
early  over  the  Pasterze,  that  was  then  still  frozen  firmly, 
but  which  is  now  only  a  moraine,  and  over  the  Kaiser  Thorl 
down  to  Kals,  because  the  guide  was  afraid  to  take  the  trip 
over  the  Kapruner  Thorl  on  account  of  the  fog. 

In  Kals  we  wanted  to  take  a  carriage  after  this  tramp 
and  the  long  wandering  of  the  preceding  day,  but,  on  enter- 
ing the  place,  the  luxurious  idea  of  the  elderly  guide  vanished 
at  once.  After  a  long  search,  a  pony  with  a  lady's  saddle 
and  a  tall  farm  horse  with  a  man's  saddle  were  put  at  our 
service.  My  sister  was  to  ride  the  latter,  and  her  legs  were 
flung  up  where  they  belonged.  But  this  arrangement  did 
not  suit  her,  and  we  decided  to  continue  on  foot,  and  took 
a  young  peasant  to  carry  our  things,  who  walked  ahead  with 
me  and  amused  me  greatly.  He  kept  an  eye  on  my  sister 
walking  behind  us,  and  when  he  asked  me  something,  as, 
for  instance,  whether  I  spoke  French,  he  always  added 
quickly,  "Can  that  one  back  there  do  it,  also?"  It  was 
plain  that  "the  one  back  there"  had  bewitched  him,  and  she 
played  a  great  part  for  him  during  the  whole  trip. 

From  Lienz  we  went  on  to  Bozen  and  Meran,  where  we 
passed  the  night,  and  then  by  way  of  Eyers  on  the  Stilfser 
Joch  to  Bormio,  which  we  reached  late  and  tired  out.  We 
heard  from  the  corridor  a  tenor  singing  old  Italian  songs 
very  prettily,  and,  in  spite  of  our  fatigue,  we  listened  to  the 
end.  Then  a  young,  blond,  and  elegant  man  rushed  by  us, 
looked  at  us  in  amazement,  and  bowed.  From  his  way  of 
wearing  the  mountain  costume  it  was  evident  that  he  was 
"something  better,"  although  he  looked  natty  enough  in  it. 

It  rained  in  torrents  the  next  day.     Everything  was 


296  My  Path  Through  Life 

already  in  the  stage  coach  and  we  were  inside,  when  a  fear- 
ful trampling  and  pounding  against  the  sides  of  the  vehicle 
began  in  the  banquette  above  our  heads.  It  was  a  most 
unholy  rumpus,  and  why  did  not  the  old  cart  get  in  motion? 
Much  irritated  by  this  bad  behaviour,  which  was  inexplicable, 
we  were  just  about  to  complain,  when  we  started  at  last 
and  we  swallowed  our  annoyance.  There  was  lively  shout- 
ing up  above  us  until  we  halted  at  noon.  We  had  vainly 
thrust  our  heads  out  on  the  way,  for  nothing  could  be  seen, 
first,  because  of  rain,  and,  later,  because  of  snow.  Mean- 
while, we  had  made  acquaintance  with  the  people  sitting 
opposite,  a  charming  young  Scotch  country  clergyman  and 
his  wife. 

As  we  entered  the  inn  at  Le  Prese  we  saw  the  cause  of  the 
noise,  which  was  none  other  than  the  blond  tenor,  whose  com- 
panion was  a  dark  gentleman,  identified  later,  by  our  honest 
Scotchman,  as  the  half-brother  of  King  Humbert  of  Italy, 
that  is,  he  was  the  natural  son  of  Victor  Emmanuel.  The 
young  man,  in  fact,  was  so  like  the  portrait  of  his  royal 
brother,  that  hung  in  the  inn  room,  that  he  might  have 
been  taken  for  him,  except  that  one  of  his  eyes  did  not 
match  the  other.  Count  Mirafiore,  as  he  was  called  after 
his  mother,  made  a  very  quiet,  elegant  impression,  while 
the  blond  tenor  conducted  himself  in  the  wildest  fashion, 
but,  as  we  now  saw  that  the  pranks  were  only  for  the  en- 
tertainment of  his  travelling  companion,  we  joined  in  the 
laughter.  The  two  gentlemen  seemed  to  be  well  known, 
and  the  landlord  and  servants  took  offence  at  nothing.  No 
one  was  safe  from  their  whims.  Flowers  were  put  in  the 
soup,  a  silver  sugar-bowl  in  the  beer,  blue  spectacles  in  the 
compote ;  everything  was  turned  topsy-turvy,  with  a  conta- 
gious hilarity  that  no  one  could  resist.  The  weather  had 
cleared,  and  the  day  became  steadily  warmer  and  more 
beautiful.  The  two  gentlemen  walked  up  the  mountain 
behind  our  carriage.  Neither  flowers  nor  trees  were  spared ; 
everything  was  broken  off  and  taken  with  them,  but,  during 


Dresden,  Prague,  Vienna,  1881-1882      297 

a  short  stop  that  we  were  all  compelled  to  make,  the  "black 
Prince"  approached  our  coach  with  a  handful  of  Alpine 
flowers  that  he  had  picked,  and  presented  them  to  me  very 
gallantly,  introducing  himself  as  Count  Mirafiore  and 
speaking  French.  I  had  resolved  not  to  betray  on  the 
journey  either  my  name  or  position,  but  I  could  not  do  other- 
wise towards  the  simple,  amiable  man  than  accept  the  situa- 
tion and  say  who  I  was.  The  blond  tenor  revealed  himself 

as  Baron  E from  Vienna.  The  gentlemen  had  come  from 

Florence,  and  wanted  to  go  to  the  Bernina  Pass,  and  then 
over  the  glacier  to  St.  Moritz,  where  Count  Mirafiore  spent 
the  whole  summer  at  his  villa.  From  that  time  on  the  two 
gentlemen  left  our  vehicle  only  when  it  advanced  very 
rapidly.  They  had  hung  it  with  wreaths,  and  adorned  it 
as  though  for  a  flower  carnival,  and  all  my  entreaties  that 
they  would  spare  the  trees  and  blossoms  were  unavailing. 
We  reached  Poschiavo  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
There  was  only  one  hotel,  and  we  were  very  badly  accommo- 
dated for  the  night.  Count  Mirafiore  had  provided  for 
everything  imaginable;  there  were  two  guides,  his  valet  and 
cook  at  command,  and  he,  in  the  most  charming  way,  invited 
both  of  us  and  our  Scotch  clerical  couple  to  share  his  dinner. 

We  went  on  the  next  morning  at  five  o'clock;  Baron  E 

had  again  assumed  his  most  brilliant  humour,  and  he 
roused  the  whole  village  by  calling  loudly  through  the 
streets,  "Poschiavi  svegliatevi ! "  The  bells  were  rung  at 
every  door,  and  he  climbed  into  every  garden  to  steal  the 
finest  flowers  for  us.  Along  the  road  a  woman  threw  three 
bunches  of  lavender  out  of  the  window  to  the  postilion, 

which  he  was  to  take  to  some  one.     Baron  E got  hold  of 

them,  gave  one  to  us,  the  second  to  the  Scotch  lady,  and 
kept  the  third  for  himself,  because,  as  he  said,  "the  hideous 
old  owner  did  not  need  them."  The  gentlemen  had  vacated 
their  coupe  for  us ;  they  sat  up  behind,  and  the  supplementary 
waggons  were  left  back.  The  higher  we  went  the  colder  it 
became,  and  the  more  they  both  sang  and  shouted ;  there  was 


298  My  Path  Through  Life 

no  way  of  stopping  them.  The  Count  sang  the  march  from 
Aida,  and  Baron  E blew  the  triumpets  for  it;  then  fol- 
lowed every  Italian  and  French  song  and  aria  that  one  knew 
or  did  not  know.  It  was  not  until  we  reached  the  fourth 
cantoniera  that  the  snowstorm  put  an  end  to  the  jollity, 
and  we  got  to  the  Bernina  Pass  nearly  frozen.  There  our 
roads  separated.  They  wanted  us  to  promise  to  do  the 
"Diavolezza"  tour  with  them,  to  which  I  could  not  consent, 
as  I  craved  rest,  and  we  wished  to  enjoy  alone  the  glories  of 
the  Pontresina  of  those  days.  Count  Mirafiore  died  about 
1891,  and  I,  unfortunately,  never  met  him  again. 


Parsifal 

1881-1883 
December  30,  1883 

XVI 

BAYREUTH,  Jan.  21,  '77. 
DEAR  LILLI, 

Why  silent  so  long?  and  yet  you  were  the  first  who  wrote  to 
me  so  lovingly  and  enthusiastically.  I  have  heard  of  your  pro- 
tracted indisposition.  Has  the  Rhine  maiden  really  been  suffer- 
ing? I  want  your  encouragement,  as  I  myself  am  very  depressed. 
Shall  I  proceed  with  the  performances  for  this  year?  If  you  can 
give  me  courage,  I  will  do  it. 

Adieu,  dear  child! 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 

XVII 

BAYREUTH,  Feb.  10,  '77. 
DEAR  LILLI, 

A  little  imposition! — 

A  year  ago  I  promised  the  Berlin  chorus,  if  it  would  be  of 
service  to  them,  to  conduct  something  at  their  benefit  concert. 
I  hear  that  the  concert  is  settled  for  the  end  of  this  month,  which 
is  rather  too  early,  especially  for  my  health,  which  still  avoids 
every  exertion.  On  the  other  hand,  I  hope  to  be  along  so  far 
by  the  middle  of  March,  and  hence,  desire  to  have  the  benefit 
postponed  until  about  then.  Amongst  the  numbers  that  might 
be  done  by  me,  I  should  like  (so  that  the  chorus  itself  would  have 
a  share  in  it),  to  give  the  finale  of  the  Meister singer  with  Betz, 

299 


300  My  Path  Through  Life 

that  is,  without  any  cut,  from  "Ehrt  cure  deustchen  Meister." 
I  hope  that  Betz  will  do  me  this  favour? 

I  have  learned  with  real  sorrow  of  Woglinde's  illness;  pro- 
bably we  shall  meet  this  summer  at  Ems,  whither  I,  too,  am  to  be 
sent.  What  is  the  matter  with  Flosshilde?  As  to  the  rest,  I 
shall  give  no  further  information ;  we  shall  see  each  other  soon  at 
Leipziger  Platz,  although  I  have  never  yet  met  my  good  child 
there. 

The  postponement  of  the  benefit  we  shall  provide  for  at  the 
proper  place?  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  would  not  lift  my 
arm  again  (in)  Germany ;  but  I  do  it  gladly  for  our  poor  choristers. 

A  thousand  greetings! 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 

XVIII 

DEAR  OLD  FRIEND, 

I  hear  nothing  further  from  you  and  your  daughters,  which 
makes  me  sad.  I  love  them  dearly,  and  when  I  think  of  their 
glorious  devotion,  their  fire,  and  their  most  lovely  performances, 
it  makes  me  melancholy  to  believe  that  all  that  is  now  over. 
Is  Lilli  with  you  still?  I  heard  from  Marie  that  she  was  on  a 
visiting  engagement  at  Berlin.  Remember  me  to  them  all  most 
heartily. 

We  remain,  I  hope,  the  same  old  friends  that  we  have  been  for 
many  years  in  all  loyalty. 

Yours  with  fervent  greetings, 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 

XIX 

BAYREUTH,  May  21,  1879. 
O  MY  BEST  OF  ALL  LlLLIS, 

It  was  fine  and  good  that  in  Stockholm,  also,  I  have  not  been 
altogether  shelved. 

Congratulations,  also,  upon  Elizabeth.  There  are  persons 
from  whom  one  expects  everything,  because  one  entrusts  every- 
thing to  them. 

The  contriving  of  Parsifal  still  costs  me  some  reflection.  The 
composition  is  finished,  and  whoever  comes  to  me  in  Bayreuth 


Parsifal,  1881-1883  301 

Can  hear  it  played  for  him  by  Rubinstein  from  beginning  to  end. 
But — as  I  said — there  must  still  be  deliberation  over  it. 

But  my  Conductor  Lilli  must  first  see  what  she  will  have  to 
do  here.  All  kinds  of  nonsense  came  into  my  mind,  because  her 
spirit  was  always  present.  Without  Lilli,  Klingsor's  magic  work 
cannot  be  executed. 

Oh,  and  there  is  singing  to  be  done!  If  she  would  come,  she 
could  look  at  it,  and  put  the  whole  matter  in  accord,  for  she  must 
stand  by  me  in  everything. 

But — send  it  away — out  of  my  house — that  is  impossible. 
What  mischance  might  happen  to  such  a  manuscript! 

Well,  we  shall  work  together  again. 

Most  cordial  greetings  to  mamma  and  sister,  and  also  to 
Lilli  from 

Her  good  old 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 

XX 

BAYREUTH,  Jan.  22,  1881. 
MY  DEAREST  CHILD  LILLI, 

Are  you  still  kindly  disposed  to  me  then?     We  shall  see. 

Here  follows  a  sort  of  piano  score ;  the  scene  of  the  enchanted 
flower  maidens,  from  the  second  act  of  Parsifal.  Examine  it 
closely ;  it  is  no  joke,  and  from  this  single  scene  you  can  compre- 
hend that  in  this  newest  work  of  mine  I  would  not  think  of  any 
theatres  here  and  there.  I  require  not  less  than  six  first-class 
singers  of  equal  voice  and  range,  and  they  must  be,  moreover, 
pretty,  slender  women.  Then,  in  addition,  at  least  twelve  or 
sixteen  young,  pretty  chorus  singers  of  the  first  quality. 

Do  look  at  it  closely!  Will  you  recruit  this  band  for  me? 
I  can  depend  on  no  one  but  on  my  Rhine  maiden  conductress; 
to  whom  else  shall  I  turn?  Your  whole  intellect,  your  enthusi- 
asm, and  your  acquaintance,  also,  with  the  personalities  of  our 
company  are  necessary  to  the  matter. 

Give  me  a  favourable  reply.  The  rehearsals  will  be  in  July, 
1882,  and,  in  August,  the  performances.  But  without  Lilli 
there  will  be  nothing. 

How  is  your  mother — and  your  sister?  A  thousand  heartiest 
greetings  and — 


302  My  Path  Through  Life 

With  the  warmest  sympathy  always,  he  who  thinks  of  you 
constantly, 

RICHARD  WAGNER. 

Child!  You  will  surely  take  great  care  of  the  manuscript, 
will  you  not,  that  no  evil  befall  it  (through  imprudence) . 

R.W. 

XXI 

BAYREUTH,  Jan.  22,  '81. 
DEAREST  CHILD, 

A  couple  of  words,  in  haste,  that  will  vex  you.  The  affair 
with  Hiilsen  is  otherwise. 

He  had  the  audacity  already,  here  at  Bayreuth,  to  ask  me 
for  the  opera  Walkure,  whereupon  I  put  it  at  his  disposal.  For 
the  last  four  years  and  a  half  he  has  contended  that  only  the 
Walkure  would  "draw,"  and  any  theatre  would  ruin  itself  with 
the  Nibelungen  operas.  He  forbade  Bronsart  to  give  the 
Nibelungen  Ring  at  Hanover,  and  issued  a  command  to  all 
the  Prussian  Court  theatres  that  nothing  should  be  given  in 
them  that  was  not  accepted  for  Berlin.  This  I  regretted,  in 
as  much  as  I  would  have  gladly  given  the  Nibelungen  Ring  to 
Hanover,  for  instance,  but  never  to  Berlin  under  Hulsen  and  his 
conductors  and  managers. 

The  affair  with  Neumann  is  thus; — I  declared  to  this  very 
active  and  industrious  director  that  I  would  permit  him  to  have 
the  production  at  the  Victoria  Theatre  but  not  at  the  Court 
Theatre.  His  conference  with  Hulsen,  on  December  5th,  was  a 
farce;  at  the  opening  of  it  Hulsen  informed  him  he  had  just 
telegraphed  me — answer  prepaid — whether,  if  he  produced  the 
whole  cycle  together  with  Neumann,  he  would  then  get  the 
right  to  give  the  Walkure  alone.  Neumann  offered  to  make  a 
bet  with  him  that  I  would  not  reply.  And  that  is  what  hap- 
pened; Hulsen  did  telegraph  me  that  enquiry  and  he  is  still 
without  an  answer. 

What  you  have  done  shows  much  esprit  de  corps.  But,  with 
all  respect,  I  think  that  if  I  had  replied  favourably  to  Hulsen 
he  would  have  already  known  how  to  appease  you.  So  it  is, 
my  child.  And  as  a  contribution  to  everlasting  truth,  I  advise 
you,  while  otherwise  it  amuses  me,  to  let  the  talk  and  lies  in  the 
newspapers  go  unnoticed. 


Parsifal,  1881-1883  303 

I  hope  strongly  that  you  will  not  be  troubled  by  Hiilsen  about 
Parsifal. 

And — a  thousand  thanks,  and  much  pleasure  from  your  letter, 
which  I  have  just  read. 

Your 

R.  WAGNER. 
XXII 

BAYREUTH,  Oct.  30,  1881. 

DEAREST  CHILD  AND  ASSOCIATE, 

I  shall  not  go  south  without  expressing  my  warmest  thanks 
for  your  new  efforts  on  my  behalf.  It  seems  as  though  I,  to  my 
great  and  very  much  needed  ease  of  mind,  had  nothing  more 
to  worry  myself  about.  Levi,  as  Conductor  to  my  illustrious 
chorus  and  orchestra  supporter,1  has  been  named  by  me  the 
general  authorised  agent  for  musical  affairs;  please  make  this 
clearly  understood,  and,  where  it  is  a  question  of  obligations  to 
be  taken  up  by  us,  A.  Gross,  who  is  here,  will  attend  to  it.  I  am 
still  considering  in  silence  the  united  renunciation  of  compensa- 
tion, as  we  must  first  experiment,  but,  if  there  should  be  repeti- 
tions in  the  succeeding  years,  I  think  I  shall  accept  no  more  real 
sacrifices.  (How  proud  I  am!??) 

Now,  my  good  child,  one  care  more;  the  women  soloists 

...  V 

must  all  be  able  to  take  the  \  9  easily  and  pleasingly; 


a  single  shrill  organ  would  spoil  everything  for  me.  If  it 
succeeds,  I  believe  that  anything  like  the  A  flat  major,  etc., 
will  never  have  been  heard  before;  here  all  depends  on  an 
uncommon  charm  of  voice,  through  the  fulness  of  the  most 
delicate  tone.  Enough  for  the  present. 

I  sincerely  hope  that,  in  future,  all  urging  to  new  heroic 
deeds  may  be  lifted  from  you,  good  child.  I  greet  mamma 
from  a  loving  old  heart,  and  remain, 

Your  very  good, 

RICH.  WAGNER. 

I  am  going  direct  to  Palermo  (H6tel  des  Palmes)  with  wife, 
bag  and  baggage.  (Shall  I  salute  Robert  le  Diable  for  you?) 

1  King  Ludwig  of  Bavaria. 


304  My  Path  Through  Life 

After  reading  Wagner's  letters  to  me,  of  1877-81,  one 
is  quite  justified  in  asking  me  how  it  happened  that  I,  who 
really  stood  close  to  Wagner's  heart,  to  whom  he  confided 
•so  much,  who  loved  and  revered  him,  was  obliged,  neverthe- 
less, to  leave  him  in  the  lurch  in  1882.  Without  being  guilty 
of  an  injustice  to  Wagner  I  can  yet  speak  of  it  freely,  this 
compulsion,  for  its  ground  lay  deep  within  me,  and  its  name 
was  self-preservation. 

I  do  not  need  to  asseverate  that  the  thought  of  renewed 
work  with  him  made  me  happy;  how  gladly  would  I  have 
served  him  and  his  genius.  I  had  undertaken  the  by-no- 
means  easy  task  of  securing  and  training  the  twenty-four 
pretty,  extremely  musical  singers  for  the  flower  maidens. 
With  Levi's  help,  who  told  me  of  ladies,  I  brought  them 
together,  at  last,  after  much  writing,  trouble,  and  reassur- 
ances. I  began  at  once  to  study  with  those  who  grouped 
themselves  about  me  in  Berlin,  and  had  already  committed 
my  part  to  memory.  I  had  even  made  an  ideal  picture  for 
myself  of  the  scenery — of  which  I  will  speak  later — and  had 
absorbed  myself  in  the  voluptuous  scene. 

Then  I  heard  that  Wagner  had  given  the  stage  arrange- 
ments for  Parsifal  to  Fritz  Brandt.  If  this  commission  of 
Wagner's  for  Brandt  meant  a  great  satisfaction  for  my 
heart,  it  frightened  me  at  the  same  time,  for  I  felt  the  wounds, 
which  I  had  believed  were  healed,  smart  and  bleed  afresh. 
The  thought  of  continually  meeting  him  at  Bayreuth  already 
tortured  me  unceasingly.  The  scarcely  forgotten  martyrdom 
began  again  to  trouble  me,  until  finally  the  conviction  was 
borne  in  upon  me,  that,  this  time,  I  should  break  down 
under  it.  That  it  would  have  been  so  I  felt  in  1883  in 
Bayreuth,  after  the  event,  where,  indeed,  unlooked-for 
difficulties  were  already  experienced  by  us,  and  the  deepest 
emotions  aroused  unendurable  self-tormentings.  Hard 
as  the  decision  was  for  me,  I  had  to  put  Wagner  off,  not 
hiding  the  true  reason  from  him,  and  hoping  that  I  should 
not  occasion  too  much  disturbance,  for  I  believed  that  now 


Parsifal,  1881-1883  305 

everything  was  arranged.  The  bad  consequences  I  could 
not  foresee,  but  they  were  shameful.  Not  one  of  the  singers 
would  now  take  second  place  under  any  other  person  as 
first  flower  maiden,  and  they  all  refused  on  the  ground  that 
they  had  accepted  it  only  under  my  leadership.  Levi  was 
beside  himself,  and  accused  me,  in  rather  coarse  letters,  of 
having  done  nothing  for  the  cause,  for  no  one  knew  now 
what  to  do.  He  did  not  reflect  that  I  had  written  hundreds 
of  letters  for  a  year,  and  that  I  had  really  brought  all  the 
ladies  together,  who  now,  without  me,  suddenly  did  not  want 
to  be  there.  It  may  have  been  a  heavy  disappointment  to 
Wagner,  but  yet,  perhaps,  he  could  feel  what  moved  me,  for 
he  made  no  further  attempt  to  change  my  mind.  He  must 
have  known  what  it  cost  me  to  cause  him  this  sorrow,  and 
to  banish  myself  from  a  work  that  had  already  grown  close 
to  my  heart ;  to  hold  myself  aloof  from  a  task  that  I,  together 
with  Wagner,  had  expected  to  put  my  seal  on — at  least  in 
the  great  flower  scene.  Now  everything  was  ended. 

Wagner  was  often  at  our  house  after  '77  ,  but  encountered 
me  only  once.  When  he  visited  us  for  the  last  time  he  saw 
my  mother  alone,  as  I  lay  ill  with  a  high  fever.  I  did  not 
see  him  again. 

A  few  months  after  his  death,  Parsifal  called  mamma, 
Riezl,  and  me,  imperiously,  to  Bayreuth.  Not  one  of  my  fam- 
ily suspected  how  I  felt.  There  I  sat,  as  though  bound  with 
iron  chains  to  the  places  that  signified  for  me  a  portion  of 
life  and  death.  When  I  became  sensible  of  the  first  tones  of 
the  Vorspiel,  it  seemed  as  though  I  heard  the  rustling  of 
wings  and  voices  sounding  from  higher  spheres.  The  pain 
in  my  heart,  the  wounds  that  sought  healing,  everything 
affected  me  a  thousand  times  more  grievously  than  it  did 
Amfortas.  What  cried  for  salvation  in  him  wailed  loudly 
in  me,  also,  and  finally  found  relief  in  tears.  I  wept  for 
the  genius  who  was  no  longer  there,  and  who  could  never 
return  to  us.  Having  come  burdened  with  heavy  sorrow, 
it  seemed  to  me  as  though  I  stood  alone  in  a  cathedral, 

80 


306  My  Path  Through  Life 

and  Wagner,  the  high  priest,  spoke  to  me  with  music  that 
seized  on  the  heart,  as  one  can  speak  only  with  his  self  alone. 
The  harmonies  opened  up  my  inmost  depths,  that,  conscious 
of  no  guilt,  were  convulsed  with  sorrow  for  him  and  for 
other  things.  I  might  call  myself  blessed,  however,  to  have 
felt  thus  in  my  deepest  soul,  though  the  grief  of  struggle  and 
experience  remained.  I  had  come  to  be  delivered  from  it; 
I  had  entered  into  the  sanctuary  of  a  great  man,  and  had 
arrived  at  the  consciousness  of  the  pure,  if  also  the  weak 
human  being.  To  struggle  forth  from  this  condition  of 
weakness  cost  me  new  efforts.  I  had  to  save  what  was  the 
best  in  me,  and  had  to  be  strong  in  order  to  serve  others  who 
were  weaker  than  I. 

At  that  time  Amalie  Materna  and  Therese  Malten  sang 
Kundry;  the  former  more  naturally,  the  latter  more 
artistically  but,  unfortunately,  also  affectedly.  I  received 
the  impression  from  both  impersonations  that  the  part 
might  be  taken  quite  differently,  both  intellectually  and 
spiritually ;  in  the  one  case,  I  missed  inner  depth,  in  the  other, 
intellectual  superiority  and  truth.  Winkelmann,  with  his 
lachrymose  style  of  singing,  was  well  suited  to  Parsifal, 
and  Fuchs  was  excellent  as  Klingsor,  with  his  unfeeling 
coldness.  Theodor  Reichmann  seemed  to  me  a  born  King 
Amfortas,  and  Scaria  can  never  be  forgotten  as  Gurnemanz 
by  those  who  were  so  fortunate  as  to  hear  and  see  him. 
Fraulein  Cramer  carried  the  cup  of  the  Grail  in  a  unique 
way,  and  orchestra  and  chorus,  under  Hans  Richter,  stood 
on  the  loftiest  heights.  My  extremely  deep  feeling  for 
Wagner  left  room  for  nothing  else;  I  saw  him  only,  heard 
nothing  but  his  work,  and  felt  only  his  breath.  I  could  not 
master  one  disappointment,  however;  the  scene  of  the 
Flower  Maidens  affected  me  most  painfully,  as  I  had 
pictured  it  to  myself  as  entirely  ideal,  and  I  now  saw  it  given 
with  such  realism. 

According  to  my  idea,  as  I  had  imagined  it,  when,  in 
1 88 1,  Wagner  sent  me  the  parts,  the  singing  flowers,  with 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Baronin  Freimann  in  Wildschutz 

From  a  photograph  by  E.  Bieber,  Berlin,  taken  in  1882 


Parsifal,  1881-1883  307 

the  whole  lower  portion  of  the  body  hidden  with  leaves, 
should  rise  at  different  heights  from  the  ground  like  growing 
flowers,  all  high  and  low,  from  every  side  turning  their 
faces  to  Parsifal,  inclining  towards  him  and — ideally  con- 
ceived— pressing  upon  him  with  their  fragrance.  Blossom- 
ing vines,  hanging  down  from  above,  and  waving  gently, 
should  have  helped  to  complete  the  illusion.  I  was  dis- 
turbed by  the  girls  and  their  continual  embraces  of  Parsifal, 
and  the  forty-eight  brown  legs  that  did  not  have  the  remotest 
resemblance  to  flowers,  and  which  detracted  from  Kundry 
as  a  human  figure.  No,  that  was  not  my  scene,  not  my 
ideal  representation  of  it,  and  more  than  ever  did  I  regret 
that  I  had  not  communicated  my  thoughts  to  Wagner,  for 
I  should  have  been  sure  of  his  agreement. 

I  am  here  moved  to  recall  a  woman  who  played  a  great 
role  in  Wagner's  life,  and  whom  I  had  the  good  fortune  of 
meeting  very  often  subsequently. 

Soon  after  Bayreuth  in  1876,  Frau  Mathilde  Wesen- 
donk  was  announced  one  evening  at  my  home — a  woman 
who  was  extraordinarily  fine  in  nature  and  appearance.  I 
had  never  met  her  before,  not  even  at  Bayreuth,  where  she 
was  present  at  the  "Ring."  From  that  time  forth  I  often 
went  to  see  her,  but  I  do  not  remember  that  I  ever  met 
her  in  other  society.  Her  husband  was  an  eager  collector 
of  pictures,  and  everything  that  one  noticed  about  them 
both,  in  their  richly  furnished  house,  breathed  artistic  sense 
and  quiet  contentment.  It  was  evident  that  some  sorrow 
burdened  the  serene,  serious  woman  that  was  expressed  by 
deep  resignation.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  should  be 
ashamed  of  my  ignorance,  but  I  then  knew  nothing  of  the 
intimate  "  Wagner-Wesendonk "  relations,  and  was  only 
aware  that  the  couple  was  very  friendly  with  Wagner,  and 
had  done  much  for  him.  Wagner  was  often  interpreted 
at  their  house,  and  once  I  even  sang  there  the  Wala  scene, 
that  Klindworth  accompanied,  as  well  as  the  great  Siegfried 


308  My  Path  Through  Life 

duet.  Mathilde  Wesendonk  often  came  to  see  me,  and 
would  listen  with  much  interest  to  my  stories  of  Bayreuth. 
With  great  pride,  she  told  me,  in  her  reticent  way,  of  the 
Tristan  manuscript,  which  she  possessed,  and  of  the  precious 
dedication.  It  seemed  to  me  sometimes  indeed — what  rose 
most  clearly  before  me  only  in  retrospect — that  she  desired 
to  get  closer  to  me  spiritually,  perhaps  to  talk  over  with  me, 
confidentially,  much  that  her  interest  in  Wagner's  life  longed 
to  have.  Foolish  timidity  held  me  back  from  touching  on  a 
theme  that  I  only  became  clearly  conscious  of,  indeed,  from 
"Wagner's  Letters  to  Mathilde  Wesendonk."  I  visited 
the  now  lonely  woman  shortly  before  her  death.  She  had 
lost  her  daughter,  Prau  von  Bissing,  and  her  husband,  and 
lived  only  with  her  son  and  her  grandchildren;  she  had  aged 
much  and  was  completely  resigned,  as  one  who  waited  with 
yearning  for  her  release.  What  a  pity  it  is  that  I  did  not 
understand  sooner  how  to  approach  so  close  to  her  that  I 
might  have  been  a  friend  to  her,  and  how  extremely  happy 
it  would  have  made  me.  A  few  days  after  her  death  I  sang 
her  five  poems  as  a  requiem  for  a  woman,  a  fuller  knowledge 
of  whom  would  have,  perhaps,  been  a  benefit  to  us. 

After  the  conclusion  of  our  Swiss  journey  in  1882,  I  was 
compelled  to  return  to  Berlin,  and  mamma  remained  with  Riezl 
in  Vienna,  who  knew  better  than  I  how  to  make  mamma's  life 
agreeable.  Nevertheless,  she  longed  to  be  back  with  me  in 
the  old  rooms  to  which  she  was  accustomed  in  Berlin.  Con- 
trary to  our  plans  we  did  not  see  each  other  again  until 
March.  Meanwhile  I  had  often  sung  Carmen  for  Fraulein 

E.  T ,  and  just  because  of  that  I  cannot  say  that  it  ever 

satisfied  me.  But  I  derived  genuine  pleasure  from  the  new 
study  of  Lortzing's  Wildschutz,  an  opera  that  I  had  never 
heard  before,  and  in  which  I  was  Baroness  Freimann ;  Frau 
Lammert,  the  Countess ;  Fraulein  Driese,  Gretchen ;  Fraulein 
Horina,the  chambermaid;  Betz,  the  Count ;  Ernst,  the  Baron; 
Krolop,  the  schoolmaster ;  and  Salomon,  the  servant.  I  had 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Baronin  Freimann  (Student)  in  Wildschittz 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin,  taken  in  1883 


Parsifal,  1881-1883  309 

at  first,  of  course,  been  overlooked  for  the  Baroness,  and 
the  part  was  given  to  me  only  because  Frau  Mallinger 
refused  it;  I  was  used  to  such  things!  The  opera  was  well 
studied  amongst  ourselves,  and  on  December  31,  1882,  it 
was  presented,  as  a  New  Year's  eve  performance,  with 
this  excellent  caste,  and  had  the  greatest  and  brightest 
success,  for  each  one  brought  pleasure  and  love  and  good 
humour  to  the  enterprise.  Betz  had  to  repeat  his  polonaise 
regularly,  and  we  our  quartet,  and  we  often  laughed  so  much 
in  the  billiard  scene  that  we  could  not  continue  singing. 
When,  at  the  first  performance,  I  waited  in  the  wings  for 
my  entrance,  dressed  as  an  up-to-date  young  man,  no  one 
recognised  me,  and  not  until  I  began  to  sing  was  it  known 
who  was  the  gentleman  in  the  wings.  It  was  terrible  to 
me  that  mamma  could  not  be  at  the  Carmen  and  New  Year's 
eve  performances,  but  she  saw  me  often  enough  in  them,  as 
the  Wildschutz  took  in  steadily  brilliant  receipts,  and  kept 
the  public  and  the  artists  in  the  happiest  mood. 

Wagner's  death  threw  a  black  shadow  over  all  our  occu- 
pations. Mamma,  who  was  much  affected  by  this  event, 
wrote  the  ominous  words  to  me  from  Vienna,  "Now  it  will 
be  my  turn."  That  sort  of  thing  is  often  said  and  not 
believed,  and  we  never  thought  of  the  possibility  that  we 
might  lose  our  dear  mother.  In  fact  I  should  have  been 
warned  of  the  significance  of  her  words  by  the  irregularity 
of  her  otherwise  beautiful,  even  writing,  but  at  the  time  it 
did  not  strike  me.  The  mood  of  foreboding  soon  was  gone 
again,  as  we  enjoyed  the  glories  of  nature  at  Gmunden  and 
the  lake,  and  walked  up  and  down  mountains  besides  rowing 
on  the  lake,  and  where  little  old  Baron  Klesheim  recited 
to  us  by  moonlight  in  the  evening,  his  short,  touching  poems, 
of  which  Die  alt'n  Lent,  especially,  remained  long  in  my 
memory. 

Mamma  endured  particularly  well  the  journey  from 
Gmunden  to  Bayreuth,  which  the  rest  of  us  felt  to  be  a 
martyrdom.  As  we  arrived  at  noon  in  Bayreuth  after 


310  My  Path  Through  Life 

being  twenty-four  hours  on  the  road,  visited  Wagner's 
grave,  and  prepared  ourselves  for  the  Parsifal  performance 
which  began  at  four  o'clock,  she,  with  her  seventy-six  years 
was  fresher  than  her  children.  What  effort!  And  what 
may  have  passed  within  her  if  she  actually  entertained  the 
thought  that  she  would  soon  have  to  forsake  us.  We  knew 
nothing  of  it — though  now  and  then  it  would  come  over  me ; 
we  had  ourselves  to  look  after,  and  went  on,  without  pre- 
sentiment, towards  the  most  terrible  grief  of  our  lives,  that 
was  made  still  worse  for  us  by  sad  minor  circumstances. 

A  heavy  cold  that  I  had  caught  at  a  swimming  lesson  at 
the  Askanische  baths,  which  first  showed  itself  in  the  head, 
soon  taught  me  to  know  much  that  was  disagreeable.  In 
vain  did  I  call  the  attention  of  two  physicians  to  the  un- 
usually severe  character  of  my  influenza,  for,  in  answer  to 
my  query  if  I  should  not  go  to  bed  for  a  couple  of  days  and 
take  care  of  myself,  I  was  told  that  it  was  not  necessary. 
Suddenly,  in  spite  of  all  precautions,  an  inflammation  of  the 
inner  ear  started  up  that  caused  me  severe  suffering,  and 
then  of  course,  an  ear  specialist,  Professor  Traubmann,  had 
to  be  summoned  to  help.  He  gave  the  diagnosis  that  I 
should  have  gone  to  him  four  weeks  earlier,  and  he  must  now 
make  every  effort  to  save  me  from  an  operation.  That, 
indeed,  took  hold  of  my  nerves.  The  tympanum  in  the 
right  ear  was  cut  open  ten  times,  always  closing  again  the 
next  day,  but,  at  last,  the  tenth  time  sufficed.  From 
September  Qth  to  October  nth,  I  lay  constantly  packed  in 
ice  as  soon  as  I  returned  home  from  the  doctor's;  I  could 
see  no  one,  could  do  nothing,  and  had  to  live  on  a  very  strict 
diet.  When  the  doctor  finally  allowed  me  to  get  up  again 
I  had  a  relapse,  and  I  had  difficulty  in  recovering  under  the 
severe  suffering  that  began  once  more. 

On  the  evening  before  my  birthday  Captain  Mensing 
came  to  see  us  in  order  to  congratulate  me.  He  had  met 
mamma  on  Leipziger  Platz,  and  drew  my  attention,  although 
very  cautiously,  to  the  change  in  her  appearance.  She  had 


Parsifal,   1881-1883  311 

not  complained,  and  to  me,  who  was  constantly  with  her, 
there  was  no  change  apparent.  I  called  Mensing,  "Unke" 
(a  crank),  and  was  really  angry  with  him  when  he  left.  The 
evening  of  my  birthday  was  a  melancholy  one,  for  mamma 
went  to  bed  about  nine  o'clock  with  severe  palpitation  and 
had  a  very  bad  night.  From  that  time  on  mamma  had 
spasms  of  the  chest  at  intervals;  rarely  at  first,  then  more 
frequently,  until  there  were  often  three  attacks  each  night, 
completely  prostrating  me  as  I  was  still  ill  myself.  We 
tried  to  stay  up  during  the  nights,  hoping  thereby  to  avoid 
the  time  of  the  spasms,  but  it  did  no  good.  Our  physicians 
could  give  no  name  to  the  illness  but  pronounced  it  a  heavy 
cold,  and  her  cough,  perhaps,  gave  occasion  for  that.  Pro- 
fessor Schweninger,  on  whom  I  built  my  whole  trust,  was 
absent.  I  was  compelled,  at  discretion,  to  leave  mamma 
to  the  ability  of  three  other  physicians,  in  whom  I  did  not 
have  the  least  confidence.  Before  her  condition  had  reached 
its  worst  phase,  she  wished  me  not  to  be  entirely  idle. 
I  sang  a  few  times,  although  I  did  not  want  to  do  it  at  all. 
On  December  I5th,  I  even  sang  Brangane  in  Tristan  for 
the  first  time,  for  which  I  had  offered  myself,  because, 
since  the  departure  of  Marianne  Brandt,  the  opera  could 
not  be  given  any  longer,  and  I  grieved  over  the  glorious 
work.  At  the  end  of  the  opera  I  had  become  quite  hoarse 
from  anxiety  and  excitement.  I  stayed  with  mamma  after 
that,  and  did  not  leave  her  side.  What  a  sad  Christmas 
eve  it  was,  when  she,  resting  in  an  invalid  chair,  watched, 
from  the  next  room,  the  quiet  little  presentation  of  gifts. 

How  much  she  must  have  suffered  in  spirit ;  how  terrible 
it  was  for  me;  how  little  hope  remained  that  we  could  keep 
her  with  us.  How  comfortless  is  the  helpless  position  in 
which  those  who  are  well  find  themselves  with  regard  to  the 
beloved  sick.  One  desires  to  bring  down  the  merciful  God, 
longs  to  sacrifice  one's  self  unreservedly,  and  all  the  love, 
the  sacrifice  do  not  help  against  death,  the  fearful  death  of  a 
beloved  person.  The  cup  of  suffering  must  be  drunk  by 


312  My  Path  Through  Life 

both  to  the  last  drop.  I  secretly  sent  for  Riezl,  on  the  plea 
of  the  holidays,  and  took  a  nurse,  as  I  had  already  suffered 
much  in  soul  and  body.  Grey  fogs  had  hung  over  Berlin 
for  days,  and  only  in  the  evening  appeared  glorious  twilight 
effects  in  the  firmament,  caused  by  volcanic  eruptions  in 
Japan,  and  that  were  full  of  meaning.  I  longed  for  sun  for 
the  dear  invalid,  that  did  not  come  for  our  yearning  or  our 
entreaties,  and  day  and  night  we  sent  prayers  up  to  heaven 
for  deliverance,  as  every  way  of  salvation  seemed  closed. 
At  the  same  time,  new  deceptive  hope  sprang  up  in  any 
moment  that  was  free  from  suffering.  On  the  evening  of  the 
29th  she  had  fallen  asleep,  and  rested  for  some  hours.  The 
doctor  arrived  just  then,  and  he  was  rejoicing  over  the 
apparent  change  for  the  better,  when  I  heard  her  call.  She 
had  dreamed  that  she  was  lying  in  her  grave,  and  it  made 
her  happy  that  I  could  talk  away  brightly  all  her  troubles, 
for  the  doctor  had  said  to  me  on  leaving,  "You  may  sleep 
comforted  to-night,  as  your  dear  mother  is  saved!"  I  do 
not  know  now  whether  I  was  really  as  confident  as  he 
was,  and  I  doubt  it.  I  gave  her  the  new  medicine  unwill- 
ingly, which  made  her  pass  the  night  in  comparative  quiet. 
We,  also,  could  rest  a  couple  of  hours  in  our  clothes,  as  we 
had  done  for  two  weeks — I  was  literally  dropping  from 
exhaustion. 

Towards  morning  I  heard  that  mamma  was  restless;  I 
hurried  in  to  warm  her  feet,  as  she  complained  of  their  grow- 
ing coldness,  and  I  sent  Riezl  to  beg  the  doctor  to  come.  At 
last  the  attendant,  who  was  helping  also,  suddenly  cried  out, 
"Only  look  how  pale  she  is!"  I  signed  to  the  woman  to  be 
quiet  and  not  to  speak,  for,  if  the  angel  of  death  was  already 
hovering  over  our  beloved  mother,  she  should  not  be  made 
aware  of  it  by  any  one.  There  was  a  slight  rattle  in  the 
throat  and  all  was  over.  How  still  it  suddenly  became  as 
I  kneeled  beside  her  in  prayer,  after  folding  her  hands,  and 
thanked  God  that  her  sufferings  were  over.  How  fearfully 
quiet !  And  yet  only  one  inaudible  mother  heart  had  ceased 


Parsifal,   1881-1883  313 

to  beat!  The  majestic  grandeur  of  death  gave  me  super- 
human strength  to  meet  my  sister,  to  stand  at  her  side  to 
comfort  her,  as  she  fell  forward  at  the  news,  screaming  aloud. 
I  still  held  our  true  and  precious  mother  close  during  the 
whole  day;  I  could  say  everything  to  her,  and  ask  her  for- 
giveness for  any  sorrow  that  she  had  suffered  through  me. 
And  when  they  took  our  beloved  from  us  at  evening,  the 
world,  to  which  I  now  only  half  belonged,  sank  away  before 
my  eyes  for  long  years  to  come. 


Berlin 

1884-1885 

I  MADE  a  daily  pilgrimage  in  deepest  grief  to  my  mother's 
grave,  and  thereby  came  to  pass  what  I  should  not  have 
believed  possible.  Life  returned  to  me  imperceptibly,  the 
while  I  moulded  my  inmost  being  according  to  my  mother's 
wishes  and  example.  I  lived  for  her  in  memory ;  I  sang  and 
worked  from  love  and  in  honour  to  her ;  I  tried,  in  her  spirit, 
to  become  milder  towards  others ;  did  and  thought  what  I 
believed  that  she  would  have  done  or  thought  in  this  or 
that  case  and  found  a  new  goal  in  life,  for  which  I  now  could 
not  do  enough  to  satisfy  myself.  That  must  have  pleased 
my  mother,  must  have  won  her  approbation  and  blessing. 
So  I  learned  from  my  mother's  memory  what  it  meant  to 
be  immortal.  She  had  achieved  for  herself  immortality 
with  her  children,  through  all  that  she  had  ever  done, 
desired,  and  suffered  for  us.  Her  love  and  devotion  hovered 
over  us  and  never  forsook  us;  some  day  they  will  also  make 
death  easy  for  us,  because  we  may  then  still  remember  her. 
My  illness  had  not  hindered  me  from  being  industrious. 
If,  as  a  convalescent,  I  could  not  go  out  for  weeks,  no  one 
might  restrain  me  from  practising,  and  it  was  then  that  I 
began  to  prepare  myself  seriously  for  the  dramatic  field.  I 
had  long  sung  myself  at  concerts  into  the  Fidelio  and  Donna 
Anna  arias.  I  had,  likewise,  studied  the  Norma  arias  under 
my  mother's  direction,  as  she  had  sung  them  herself  and  had 

314 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Norma 
From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin,  taken  in  1887 


Berlin,  1884-1885  315 

heard  them  sung  by  the  greatest  ones  of  her  time,  until, 
finally,  I  confessed  to  her  how  everything  in  me  impelled 
me  towards  this  grand  part.  "My  child,"  she  warned, 
"do  not  sing  Norma;  it  is  one  of  the  most  exacting  of  rdles, 
for  which,  I  fear,  you  do  not  possess  the  strength."  I  will 
make  it  mine,  I  thought,  and  must  wait  hopefully  for  the 
right  time  to  come  to  me.  The  part  of  Constanze  in  the 
Entfuhrung  finally  devolved  upon  me,  through  Fraulein 
Grossi's  departure;  and  I  insisted  upon  singing  the  great  C 
major  aria  without  cuts,  that  had  never  before  been  so  done 
in  Berlin.  It  is  very  exhausting,  also,  but  I  owed  it  to 
Mozart  to  perform  the  task,  and  I  ventured  and  won.  I 
sang  the  r61e  for  the  first  time  on  January  iyth.  My 
colleague,  Fricke-Osmin,  sent  me  a  splendid  wreath  the 
next  morning,  "For  the  Mother," — a  mark  of  recognition 
that  gratified  me  beyond  all  others,  and  which  I  laid  with 
inexpressible  thankfulness  and  pride  at  the  feet  of  my  dear 
one. 

While  I  had  not  yet  regained  composure  after  my  dread- 
ful bereavement  I  was  reminded,  by  a  long  and  dear  letter 
from  Fritz  Brandt,  of  a  deep  old  grief,  and  was  disquieted 
by  him.  He  had  been  in  India,  and  had  gone  on  wonderful 
travels  with  dissatisfaction  in  his  heart  and  the  longing 
desire  that  I  should  become  to  him  once  more  what  I  had 
been.  My  feeling  for  him  was  by  no  means  dead,  but  what 
I  had  so  intensely  wished  whilst  my  mother  was  living,  I 
had  to  admit  to  myself  now,  after  long  struggles,  had  become, 
through  the  beloved  dead,  an  impossibility,  as  she  stood 
more  powerfully  between  us  than  when  she  was  alive. 

Hulsen  celebrated,  in  the  year  1881,  his  thirty-year 
jubilee  as  "Intendant"  of  the  royal  drama,  for  which  occa- 
sion we  ladies  embroidered  a  large  table-cover.  In  the 
morning  Hulsen  was  honoured  with  endless  speeches  in  the 
hall  of  the  Royal  Theatre,  and  was  created  an  Excellency  by 
the  Emperor;  in  the  afternoon  an  immense  banquet  brought 
us  all  together  at  the  Kaiserhof .  Hulsen  and  I,  who  were  just 


316  My  Path  Through  Life 

then  again  at  odds,  made  use  of  the  good  opportunity  to 
become  reconciled,  and  I  seized  the  occasion  to  talk  every- 
thing out  with  him.  I  informed  him  of  my  plans  and  begged 
him  urgently,  in  case  a  dramatic  position  was  open,  not  to 
pass  me  over,  but  to  support  my  artistic  striving,  to  advance 
my  talent,  and  to  offer  me  a  hand  for  the  attainment  of  my 
goal,  which,  otherwise,  I  was  not  able  to  reach.  There 
were  certainly  proofs  enough  of  this  talent,  as  he  had  seen 
me  already,  for  years  past,  receive  such  recognition  on  all 
the  principal  stages,  and  no  other  one  of  our  Berlin  women 
singers  had  ever  been  given  an  invitation  to  the  great  court 
stages  or  to  London.  Hulsen,  to  whom,  for  greater  conve- 
nience, I  sent  my  repertoire  every  two  or  three  months,  with 
the  r61es  which  I  had  sung  elsewhere  or  those  fully  prepared 
in  which  I  was  ready  to  appear  at  any  moment,  now  pro- 
mised me  seriously  that  he  would  not  forget  me  again. 
Yet  contrary  to  all  his  promises,  I  had  to  continue  to  fight 
for  each  r61e,  and  did  not  advance  nor  arrive  at  the  goal  to 
which  everything  urged  and  combined  in  me. 

The  Walkure  was  now  announced  for  April,  an  event 
that  we  all  awaited  with  the  greatest  suspense,  and,  after 
long  parleying  back  and  forth,  Sieglinde  was  conceded  to 
me,  in  alternation  with  Frau  Sachse-Hofmeister,  but  I  was 
to  take  Fricka  at  the  first  performances,  which  I  was  ready 
to  do  with  all  my  heart. 

Niemann  was  to  be  Siegmund;  Fricke,  Hunding;  Betz, 
Wotan;  Voggenhuber,  Brunhild;  Sachse-Hofmeister,  Sieg- 
linde; and  I,  Fricka.  Through  study,  I  had  brought  out 
with  great  earnestness  what  distinguishes  Fricka;  had 
created  her  not  as  a  vindictive  woman  but  one  who  was 
fighting  strongly  for  honour  and  right,  and  I  rejoiced  that 
I  could  properly  treat  this  artistically  difficult  if  not  very 
grateful  task. 

Conductor  K ,  who  had  been  director  of  the  chorus 

for  many  years,  and  had  then  acted  as  director  of  the  lesser 
operas,  was  now  suddenly  called  upon  to  conduct  the  study 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Fricka  in  Walkiire 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin,  taken  in  1887 


Berlin,  1884-1885 

of  the  Walkure,  and  to  lead  it.  Although  we  all  shook  our 
heads  over  what  seemed  to  us  a  quite  unjustifiable  choice, 
there  was  at  command  for  the  work  plenty  of  time,  nothing 
but  artists  of  the  first  rank,  and  a  brilliant  orchestra,  so 
that  there  was  hope  of  pulling  through  the  insignificant  con- 
ductor. Man  proposes,  the  artist  hopes,  but  too  much  beer 

brings  everything  to  naught.     On  that  night  K forgot 

to  give  any  signs ;  even  the  first  sword  motif  was  omitted,  and 
others  were  too  early  or  too  late.  Full  of  fear,  I  fled  from 
the  little  stage  box  so  as  not  to  have  to  hear  anything  more, 

and  learned  that,  at  six  o'clock,  K had  to  be  fetched 

directly  from  his  beer  to  the  performance.  The  whole  court 
and  our  most  distinguished  audience  had  assembled  to  be 
present  at  an  artistic  event  that  now  was  wrecked  miser- 
ably by  drink.  The  very  difficult  Wotan-Fricka  scene  of 
the  second  act  went  every  which  way.  Betz  and  I  had  need 
of  holding  all  our  musical  powers  together  to  enable  us  to 
steer  our  course  upon  the  stage  through  the  confusion  in 
the  orchestra.  How  we  did  it  is  still  a  riddle  to  me  to-day. 
I  had  never  experienced  anything  like  it,  and  would  not 
have  thought  it  possible.  When  I  went  behind  the  scenes 
my  despair  found  relief  in  floods  of  tears,  and  I  heard  that 
Hulsen  had  smashed  everything  to  bits  from  rage  in  the 
anteroom  of  his  box.  And  for  this  we  had,  for  months, 
expended  trouble,  industry,  and  effort  on  the  work  and  the 
production,  which  had  gone  really  brilliantly  at  the  general 
rehearsal  and  had  promised  the  best  results.  I  do  not  know 
whether  the  audience  learned  the  truth;  at  least  it  did  not 
make  the  artists  pay  for  what  was  perpetrated  by  the  con- 
ductor, and  it  covered  over  the  shame  of  the  evening  with 

a  roar  of  applause.     K continued  to  conduct  in  Berlin; 

I  was  ashamed  for  the  art  that  was  to  me  so  exalted,  and 
could  not  restrain  my  indignation  before  him.  Probably 
I  was  and  remained  the  only  one — despite  all  the  abuse 
bestowed  on  him  by  the  others  behind  his  back — who  took 
this  disgraceful  case  seriously  to  heart.  I  was  not  permitted 


3i8  My  Path  Through  Life 

to  sing  Sieglinde  until  three  weeks  later,  which  caused 
trouble  again  with  my  really  amiable  colleague,  Frau 
Sachse-Hofmeister,  because  she  had  not  been  informed  at 
the  right  time  that  she  was  to  alternate  with  me,  although 
I  had  taken  care  to  request  it. 

The  celebrated  tenor,  Ladislaus  Mierzwinsky,  appeared, 
in  December,  as  visiting  artist.  Ably  managed,  he  drew  full 
houses,  had  a  beautiful  voice,  and  sang  well,  but  was  very 
unmusical,  so  that  it  may  be  credited  to  me  as  a  masterly 
achievement  that  I  was  able  to  sing  the  Tell  duet  with  him. 
He  did  not  please  especially;  at  least,  on  these  very  evenings, 
the  audience  constantly  distinguished  Betz  and  me  quite 
particularly.  Respect  could  not  be  denied  him,  for,  as  he 
told  me,  he  had  struggled  up  to  his  position  by  indomitable 
industry,  as  his  teacher's  verdict  was  that  he  had  no  talent 
and  not  even  a  voice.  The  moral  to  be  drawn  from  this  is, 
that  one  may  no  more  deny  success  to  the  really  diligent  and 
ambitious  though  less  talented  than  one  may  guarantee  it 
in  advance  to  the  gifted,  unambitious  students.  But  I  had 
enough  of  his  interpretation,  even  at  the  first  rehearsal. 
Arnold,  in  Tell,  advances  to  Mathilde  with  the  question 
how  he  shall  decide  between  his  love  of  country,  his  duty  as 
a  son,  and  his  love  for  her.  I  stretched  out  my  right  hand  to 
Arnold  with  the  decisive  words  of  Mathilde,  "Be  mine,"  and 
Arnold  should  have  placed  his  in  it  and  kissed  it  fervently. 
Mierzwinsky  did  not  take  it,  however,  although  I  asked  him 
to  do  so,  and  he  advanced  the  reason  as  follows  in  French : 
"Ne  me  donnez  pas  la  main,  s'il  vous  plait,  Mademoiselle 
Lehmann;  vous  6tes  Princesse,  n'est  ce  pas?  Eh  bien,  je 
n'ose  pas  1'accepter."  And  immediately  thereafter  he  had  a 
love  duet  to  sing  with  me,  and  I  had  to  marry  this  man, 
at  the  end  of  the  opera,  who,  moreover,  was  dressed  like  a 
tight-rope  dancer,  and  who  was  afraid  to  take  my  hand. 

The  sooth  performance  of  the  Freischutz  at  the  Berlin 
opera-house  was  a  delightful  celebration  on  December  i8th, 
with  Niemann  as  Max;  Betz,  the  Hermit;  Sachse-Hofmeis- 


Berlin,  1884-1885  319 

ter,  Agathe;  and  Lehmann,  Annchen,  at  which  our  artists' 
hearts  loudly  rejoiced,  and  a  thousand  dear  old  memories 
reaching  back  to  my  earliest  childhood  passed  happily 
through  my  mind. 

Important  events  were  happening  for  me,  also,  outside 
of  Berlin.  Franke,  the  impresario,  summoned  me  to 
London  for  July,  where  he  thought  of  producing  at  Covent 
Garden,  under  the  leadership  of  Schuch  and  Hans  Richter, 
all  the  Wagner  operas  except  the  Ring.  I  arrived  too  late, 
unfortunately,  for  Eva  and  Elsa,  and  I  sang  only  Isolde  and 
Venus.  Only  Isolde!  How  easily  I  write  to-day  what  then 
meant  the  highest  aim  of  artistic  desires.  I  had  studied  it 
for  months,  had  gathered  my  strength  for  it,  and  appro- 
priated it  when  I  was  able  to  sing  each  phrase  a  hundred 
times  and,  finally,  each  act  three  to  four  times  in  succession 
with  full  voice  and  action.  Some  weeks,  during  this  study, 
I  was  quite  confused  from  nothing  but  alliteration,  and  no 
longer  wondered  why  it  was  said  that  Schnorr  von  Carolsfeld 
had  ruined  himself  over  Tristan.  Gudehus  was  Tristan; 
Scheidemantel,  who  impressed  me  especially,  was  Kurwenal ; 
Wiegand  as  Marke  was  excellent;  and  Frau  Luger,  our 
splendid  Berlin  contralto,  was  Brangane,  while  I  was  Isolde. 
Hans  Richter,  who  laboured  day  and  night  with  the  orches- 
tra, was  indefatigable  as  always  when  it  concerned  breaking 
a  lance  for  Wagner. 

A  big  cut  was  to  have  been  made  only  in  the  philosophical 
conversation  about  day  and  night,  as,  at  that  time,  no  one 
yet  dared  to  give  the  English  public  the  complete  Tristan 
without  omissions.  But  it  became  apparent  at  the  first 
orchestra  rehearsal  that  in  the  first  act,  also,  more  than  half 
of  Isolde's  great  narrative,  according  to  the  Viennese  voices 
and  arrangement,  and  other  places  besides,  were  cut,  and,  as 
Richter  believed,  had  not  been  copied  at  all.  Whereupon, 
I  refused  absolutely  to  sing  the  r61e,  and  the  next  day  the 
notes  were  forthcoming,  which,  perhaps,  had  been  copied 
and  had  merely  stuck  together,  so  that  the  first  act  was 


320  My  Path  Through  Life 

done  without  cuts.  The  excellent  production  justified  the 
brilliant  success,  for  which  Richter  got  great  credit.  Tristan 
was  given  twice  in  a  week  and  in  between  I  sang,  also,  Venus 
in  Tannhduser.  Even  before  my  arrival  in  London  I  had 
heard  of  ugly  pecuniary  disagreements  between  the  artists 
and  the  impresario  who  intrenched  himself  on  each  occasion 
behind  a  guarantee  fund.  Nothing  was  owing,  up  till  then, 
to  the  leading  talent,  but  the  chorus  and  orchestra  had 
already  made  various  very  earnest  demands  for  payment, 
had  gone  on  strike  at  the  first  Tristan  rehearsal,  and  re- 
sumed playing  only  when  paid. 

Another  lovely  surprise  awaited  me  in  Tristan,  when 
Gudehus  whispered  to  me,  after  the  love  duet,  that  he  would 
not  sing  further,  because  he  had  not  received  his  salary  after 
the  first  act.  I  urged  him  not  to  spoil  the  performance,  not 
to  make  Wagner  and  our  love  for  the  work  suffer  for  this 
reason,  but  the  intermission  between  the  second  and  third 
acts  was  interminable  because  Gudehus  actually  did  not 
continue  to  sing  until  after  the  receipt  of  his  salary.  And 
he  was  right,  in  truth,  for  why  should  the  artists  alone  pay 
with  losses  for  the  failure  of  badly  financed  enterprises?  I 
can  still  see  Herr  Noldech,  the  Brunswick  basso,  strut  along 
with  a  thick  walking  cane,  which  he  tenderly  called  his 
"guarantee  fund."  Under  the  guidance  of  this  sonorous 
colleague,  confident  in  his  guarantee  fund,  Frau  Luger 
and  I  energetically  demanded  our  salaries  from  the  impre- 
sario, who  was  just  "attending  an  important  conference," 
but  who,  after  some  delay,  handed  us  our  checks  in  person. 
Worried  by  our  associates  into  fearing  that  these  were 
worthless  and  that  there  was  no  money  at  the  bank,  we 
rushed  thither,  and  received  the  amount  paid  out  in  beauti- 
ful gold  pieces  that  were  weighed  with  little  shovels  in  scales. 
Naturally,  we  hoped  to  find  some  pounds  extra  at  home, 
but  it  tallied — neither  more  nor  less. 

In  London,  my  niece,  who  was  now  my  constant  com- 
panion, and  I  met  many  artists  whom  we  already  knew. 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Isolde  in  Tristan  und  Isolde 

From  a  photograph  by  Aim6  Dupont,  New  York,  taken  in  1886 
(Copyright  by  Aim6  Dupont) 


Berlin,  1884-1885  321 

We  all  went  together  on  a  delightful  picnic  arranged  by  Mr. 
Bambridge,  the  musical  secretary  to  the  very  musical  Duke 
of  Edinburgh.  We  were  rowed  up  the  Thames  in  small 
boats  past  many  fine  points,  rested,  had  lunch,  and  went 
back  again  down  the  river,  in  the  wonderful  twilight. 
London  can  really  be  very  beautiful,  as  is  the  case  with 
everything  that  one  knows  how  to  enjoy.  What  happened 
further  at  Covent  Garden  I  was  deprived  of  knowing,  as  my 
promise  called  me  to  Munich,  whither  we  slowly  meandered 
by  way  of  Switzerland,  always  negotiating  with  America 
and  studying  English  words,  therefore  constantly  restless, 
but  wandering  on  foot  amid  the  most  sublime  nature. 

Von  Perfall,  the  General  Intendant,  found  an  easy  means 
of  making  the  Ring  attractive  as  a  festival  performance  at 
Munich,  when  he  invited  all  the  artists  who  had  sung  the 
Ring  under  Wagner  in  '76  to  co-operate  cheaply,  so  as  to 
make  of  the  performances  at  the  same  time  a  memorial 
celebration  for  Wagner.  Perfall  was  not  easy  to  shake 
off,  so  Niemann  and  we  three  Rhine  maidens  accepted  the 
invitation  after  long  resistance,  but  I  stipulated  that  I 
should  sing  Sieglinde  at  the  first  performance  of  the  Walkure. 
There  are  not  pleasant  memories  connected  with  that  visit. 
Eight  years  had  passed  over  us  since  '76;  Frau  Lammert 
was  married,  my  sister  was  very  nervous,  and  I,  too,  was  no 
longer  pleased  with  many  things  that  I  had  done  so  gladly 
for  Wagner.  The  swimming  machines  that  here  ran  on 
the  stage  and  not  on  a  wheeled  platform,  as  at  Bayreuth, 
but  which,  instead,  forced  the  Rhine  maidens  to  be  suspended 
from  twice  as  high  bars,  were  the  first  stones  of  stumbling, 
and  not  the  last.  I  was  the  only  one  who  dared  to  let  my- 
self be  taken  around  and  to  sing  in  the  apparatus ;  my  sister 
burst  out  weeping  at  once,  and  Minna  Lammert-Tamm  was 
content  to  look  up  at  it  and  to  say  quietly,  "No,  I  am  not 
going  to  get  in  that  machine ;  I  have  two  small  children,  and 
I  will  not  risk  my  life."  Good  advice  was  dear,  and  it 


322  My  Path  Through  Life 

seemed  to  me  the  best  course  was  to  request  Herr  von  Per- 
fall  to  release  us  from  our  promises.  Perfall  went  to  Levi, 
and,  involuntarily,  I  overheard  the  latter  say:  "I  think  we 
are  under  no  obligations  towards  them;  we  need  have  no 
concern  as  they  can  not  do  it."  Perfall  was  of  another 
opinion;  he  had  promised  the  audience  only  the  singing  and 
not  the  swimming,  also,  and  insisted  upon  keeping  the 
original  Rhine  maidens.  It  had  to  be  made  possible  then 
for  us  to  sing  from  below,  and  for  others  to  do  the  swimming 
above.  It  was  certainly  very  amiable,  but  assuredly  not 
clever.  I  accepted  this  compromise  against  my  will,  but 
was  straightways  thrown  into  despair  as  I  saw  the  swimmers 
up  above,  on  the  evening  of  our  singing,  making  the  most 
unsuitable  movements  and  doleful  or  indifferent  faces  over 
what  had  moved  us  intensely. 

Niemann  and  I,  in  the  Walkure,  were  much  distinguished 
by  the  audience.  Many  painters,  Lenbach,  among  others, 
gave  our  co-operation  and  Niemann's  wonderful  performance 
the  most  joyous  recognition,  and  only  the  press  was  divided 
in  opinion.  It  may  have  believed  that  there  was  danger 
of  hurting  home  talent  by  praising  outsiders  too  much  and 
perhaps  it  was  justified  in  so  supposing.  Visiting  artists 
at  Munich  in  those  days  were  always  wedged  between  two 
parties.  Here  was  Vogl,  there  was  Weckerlin,  who,  besides, 
sang  Sieglinde.  We  were  torn  in  pieces  by  the  latter  party, 
and  lauded  to  the  skies  by  the  other.  "At  last  we  have  the 
Volsung  pair;  in  passion,  warmth  of  acting  and  singing  they 
are  incomparable." 

We  had  shown  what  we  could  do,  but  even  here  it  could 
not  pass  off  without  irritation  with  the  management.  In 
the  first  act,  namely,  a  fagot  was  burning  besides  the  fire 
on  the  hearth,  that  was  quite  unnecessary,  contrary  to 
Wagner's  directions,  and  which  rested  on  an  iron  stand  and 
was  to  be  carried  away  by  Sieglinde.  Siegmund  asks,  after 
Sieglinde's  withdrawal,  as  soon  as  the  sword-hilt  shines  forth, 
"Is  it  the  glance  of  the  woman  fair  which  she  left  clinging 


Berlin,  1884-1885  323 

yonder?"  Instead  of  Sieglinde,  with  the  night  potion  in 
her  left  hand,  standing  in  the  dim  light  of  the  dying  fire, 
turning  her  head  significantly  toward  the  tree  and  riveting 
her  gaze  suddenly  on  the  sword-hilt,  then,  upon  Hunding's 
urgence,  disappearing  behind  the  curtain  that  she  has  to 
lift  herself,  she  now  had  to  go  off,  according  to  the  manage- 
ment there,  with  the  draught  in  one  hand  and  the  burning 
fagot  in  the  other.  What  an  enchanting  picture!  Sacred 
Wagner!  As  I  defended  myself  strenuously  against  this, 
it  was  finally  given  up.  (In  the  second  cycle  there  was  a 
different  Volsung  pair,  who  reminded  me  vividly  of  the 
Philemon  and  Baucis  scene  in  Faust.}  On  the  morning  after 
the  Walkure,  we  went  to  the  station  with  Niemann,  who 
lived  at  the  Starnberger  See.  With  his  travelling  bag  in 
his  hand,  he  might  have  reminded  one  slightly  of  King 
Menelaus  had  he  not  been  Faust.  With  the  tragi-comic 
exclamation,  "Well,  children,  the  glorious  star  engagement 
is  now  over!"  he  steamed,  to  the  accompaniment  of  shouts 
of  laughter,  towards  his  small  and  yet  so  great  Hedwig- 
Helena.  I  knew  that  he  had  sung  Siegmund  only  out  of 
love  for  Wagner  and  me,  had  left,  on  that  account,  his  well- 
deserved  rest  for  several  days,  and  that  he  had  refused  to 
sing  Florestan,  on  which  Perfall  was  much  set.  We  Rhine 
maidens  had  yet  another  shock  to  undergo  when,  strapped 
into  low  machines  in  the  Gotterdammerung,  expecting  the 
commencement  of  the  third  act,  we  were  thrown  into  fear 
and  anxiety  by  a  terrible  cry  in  the  audience.  Each  of  us 
thought  of  fire,  and,  as  we  could  not  stir,  we  saw  ourselves 
already  lost  beyond  possibility  of  rescue.  Fortunately,  it 
proved  to  be  only  a  pickpocket  who  had  been  caught  in  the 
gallery  and  locked  up,  but  we  had  our  share  of  fright.  Then 
we,  too,  went  home  from  the  glorious  special  engagement,  to 
which  many  of  the  Bayreuth  artists  had  not  come. 

During  my  mother's  lifetime,  Dr.  Leopold  Damrosch  had 
made  me  an  offer  for  two  months  of  grand  Wagner  concerts 
and  opera  in  America,  which  were  sung  by  Materna  and 


324  My  Path  Through  Life 

Winkelmann,  because  Hulsen  would  not  give  me  such  a  long 
winter  leave  of  absence  in  '84- '85.  Instead  of  that  he  was 
willing  to  grant  me  a  shorter  one  for  Vienna,  and  to  permit 
one  of  four  months  for  America  in  the  winter  of  '85-' 86, 
which  he  promised  to  arrange,  and  which  seemed  to  me  far 
more  important  as  regarded  my  preparatory  work. 

My  plan  was  ready.  It  suited  me  excellently  to  study 
hard  in  preparation  through  the  winter,  and  to  try  out 
everything  first  in  Vienna  and  Dresden,  whither  I  was  again 
called  for  long  special  engagements,  to  ascertain  whether 
I  was  really  strong  enough  to  adopt  a  dramatic  career  for 
myself.  With  mad  courage  I  now  fell  upon  the  study  of 
Fidelio,  Donna  Anna,  and  Norma,  that  I  soon  mastered 
completely  both  in  singing  and  acting,  and  a  remarkable 
chance  shortly  put  me  to  the  proof  in  Berlin. 

To  give  myself  a  change  from  the  intellectual  strain  I 
painted  flower  pieces,  self-taught,  which  I  fussed  over,  and  so 
was  compelled  to  think  of  other  things.  I  was  sitting  at 
my  easel  one  morning  when  our  good  old  employee,  Carus, 
from  the  opera-house,  walked  in.  I  supposed  he  was  going 
to  make  another  announcement  of  the  "  Troubandour"  as  he 
consistently  called  the  opera,  but  this  time  he  had  come 
about  something  quite  different.  He  asked  me  if  I  could 
sing  Fidelio  that  evening.  Frau  von  Voggenhuber  had  been 
taken  ill  and  Frau  Sachse  refused  to  fill  the  gap;  if  I  would 
consent  Conductor  Radecke  would  be  with  me  in  an  hour  to 
go  through  the  opera.  Carus  vanished  with  my  "yes," 
while  I,  no  longer  mistress  of  myself,  trembling  where  I 
stood,  sank  with  loud  sobs  to  my  knees,  and,  weeping  hot 
tears  of  pleasure  in  my  clasped  hands,  gave  thanks  to  her  to 
whom  I  had  so  much  for  which  to  be  grateful.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  I  could  recover  myself  and  ask  if  it  were  really 
true?  I  to  sing  Fidelio  in  Berlin?  Good  heavens,  I  Fidelio! 
No  matter  that  I  was  to  sing  it  ten  days  later  in  Vienna; 
Vienna  was  not  Berlin !  I  was  much  more  distinguished  at 
the  former  city  than  at  Berlin  where  I  should  have  been 


Berlin,  1884-1885  325 

more  highly  appreciated.  The  ambition  that  spurred  me  on 
was  satisfied.  When  Radecke  arrived  an  hour  later  he 
found  me  mistress  of  the  situation. 

It  went  admirably  at  night,  although  not  with  as  much 
power  as  I  wished.  Betz  and  Niemann  pressed  my  hand 
silently,  and  I  knew  what  that  meant.  I  thanked  God  for 
my  success,  and,  irony  of  fate,  to  whom  did  I  owe  it?  To 
our  theatrical  tailor!  Yes,  indeed,  to  the  royal  Prussian 
tailor,  Schroder.  He  had  finished  a  costume  for  Fidelio 
that  I  was  to  wear  at  Vienna;  he  heard,  by  chance,  of  the 
refusal  of  the  two  dramatic  sopranos  to  sing,  and  he  said: 
"See  here;  Fraulein  Lehmann,  also,  sings  Fidelio;  I  have 
just  made  her  breeches  for  it";  in  short,  he  saved  the  per- 
formance. He  helped  me  to  my  victory,  for  which  I  had 
begged  so  long,  always  being  repulsed  by  Hulsen  with  the 
words,  "You  cannot  do  it."  And  now  a  tailor  says  that  I 
can,  and  it  turns  out  to  be  true.  Praised  be  this  tailor, 
whose  assistance  I  required  to  attain  to  Fidelio  in  Berlin. 
Only  a  short  time  previously,  moreover,  I  had  had  my  reper- 
toire delivered  to  Hulsen  in  person,  on  which  the  r61e  was 
marked.  Hulsen  admitted  that  he  would  never  have  en- 
trusted it  to  me.  I  called  his  attention  to  the  fact  that  I 
also  sang  Norma.  "Yes,  Norma,  but  Fidelio  is  quite  another 
matter";  whereupon  I  had  to  inform  him  again  that  Norma 
was  ten  times  as  exacting  as  Fidelio. 

Ten  days  later  I  was  singing  Isolde,  Fidelio,  and  Donna 
Anna  at  Vienna,  and  Constanze  and  Norma  followed.  I 
sang  Donna  Anna  for  the  first  time,  and,  as  Hans  Richter 
conducted  Don  Juan,  I  had  strong  hopes  of  a  good  stage 
rehearsal,  but  nothing  was  said  about  it.  I  was  told,  on 
my  enquiry,  that  Hans  Richter  had  appointed  no  rehearsal, 
saying,  "I  beg  you  not  to  be  ridiculous;  that  /  should  not 
know  how  Fraulein  Lehmann  sings  Donna  Anna!"  It  was 
very  flattering  that  he  entrusted  the  r61e  to  me  in  this  way 
without  any  sort  of  rehearsal,  but  I  was  obliged  to  know  the 
setting  of  the  stage  at  least,  and  where  I,  myself,  and  my 


326  My  Path  Through  Life 

partner  had  to  go  on  and  off,  and  I  gave  orders  for  the  super- 
intendent to  meet  me  the  day  before  on  the  stage  to  instruct 
me  in  these  points.  When  I  asked  about  Don  Juan's  exit 
previous  to  the  Rache  aria,  which  seemed  to  me  very  im- 
portant, he  gave  me  the  following  information:  "If  Herr 
von  Reichmann  sings,  he  goes  off  to  the  right,  but  if  it  is 
Herr  von  Beck,  he  leaves  by  the  left,  as  he  is  then  much 
nearer  his  dressing-room."  "And  who  will  sing  Don  Juan  to- 
morrow?" "I  don't  yet  know."  So  I  studied  for  both  sides, 
and  Fate  decided  upon  Herr  von  Reichmann,  a  fact  which 
I  did  not  learn  until  the  evening  of  the  performance. 

Director  Jahn  applied  himself  to  Norma  with  the  finest 
artistic  understanding.  He  was  not  a  stranger  to  the  great 
Italian  tradition;  he  knew  how  the  opera  was  produced  in 
Italy,  how  it  was  sung  by  the  great  Italians  and  Germans, 
and  he  dedicated  himself  with  love  and  delight  to  the  work,  to 
which  Richard  Wagner,  also,  had  always  brought  the  warm- 
est interest.  When  I  think  back  to  that  beautiful  time,  and 
then  consider  with  what  lack  of  knowledge  and  affection 
this  glorious  opera  was  treated  subsequently,  I  must  pity 
the  artists  who  permit  such  great  and  compensating  tasks 
to  escape  them,  as  well  as  the  public  that  thereby  loses  the 
lofty  enjoyment  of  a  work  so  rich  in  melody,  the  passionate 
action  of  which  is  less  wanting  in  human  grandeur  than 
many  a  bungled  modern  composition  that  receives  great 
applause.  But  this  opera,  which  bears  so  much  love  within 
it,  may  not  be  treated  indifferently  or  just  killed  off.  It 
should  be  sung  and  acted  with  fanatical  consecration, 
rendered  by  the  chorus  and  orchestra,  especially,  with 
artistic  reverence,  led  with  authority  by  the  director,  and, 
to  every  single  eighth  note,  should  be  given  the  musical 
tribute  that  is  its  due. 

Scaria  was  Orovist,  either  Wilt  or  I  was  Norma,  Winkel- 
mann  was  Sever  and  added  was  the  Vienna  orchestra  con- 
ducted by  Jahn  and  afterwards  by  Hans  Richter.  Jahn  often 
said  to  us  sisters :  "  If  you  two  wished  to  go  on  tour  in  Norma 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Norma 
From  a  photograph  of  the  painting  by  Hans  YTolkmer,  taken  in  1883 


Berlin,  1884-1885  327 

you  could  earn  a  million."  But  my  sister,  who  always  took 
only  the  nearest  and  never  the  distant  thing  into  considera- 
tion was,  unfortunately,  not  made  for  that.  Finally,  how- 
ever, our  co-operation,  at  least,  that  gave  us  intense  pleas- 
ure in  Norma,  Don  Juan,  and  the  Entfuhrung,  was  achieved 
by  my  visiting  engagement  at  Vienna.  We  understood 
each  other  perfectly  in  musical  matters.  Just  before  the 
beginning  of  the  greatest  cadenzas,  in  which  my  sister  did 
not  uniformly  enjoy  singing  the  second  voice,  we  would 
change  parts  if  I  whispered  to  her  hurriedly,  "You  sing  the 
first, "  as  it  was  all  the  same  to  me.  I  can  still  see  Scaria,  as 
Orovist,  weeping  in  the  last  scene,  when  I  beg  him,  as  a 
father,  for  the  children's  lives.  He  could  not  believe  that 
I  was  singing  the  part  for  the  first  time.  He  acted  the  last 
scene  with  touching  love  and  nobility,  and  sang  the  whole 
role  superbly.  That  remains  fixed  in  my  affections,  and 
alone  would  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  forget  him.  I  wish 
with  all  my  heart  that  artists  in  song  and  impersonation 
would  again  rise  up  for  this  splendid  work,  who  would  truly 
invest  it  with  all  the  love  and  ability  that  we  once  gave  to 
it.  An  audience  will  always  be  ready  for  this. 

It  seems  to  me  impossible  to  pass  over  Emil  Gotze  with- 
out remembering  in  the  most  affectionate  way  his  delight 
in  singing  and  his  glorious  voice  that  was  like  a  fresh  bubbling 
spring.  His  Walther  Stolzing  still  rings  in  my  ears  like  a 
shout  of  triumph,  just  as  in  those  days  when  I,  for  the  first 
time,  heard  his  voice  peal  out  in  the  finale  of  the  Meister- 
singer,  as  though  a  higher  truth  had  indeed  been  delivered  to 
him,  "In  the  wood  there  of  the  Vogelweid."  His  naturally 
joyous  song  made  our  singers'  hearts  laugh  and  rejoice  also. 
Happy  man  and  happy  singer,  to  whom  power  was  granted 
to  enrich  others  with  happiness ! 

His  visiting  engagement  brought  me  a  new  r61e,  that  of 
Lucia,  which  I  had  never  sung  before.  It  was  almost  too 
much  after  all  that  I  had  done  in  this  year  and  I  perceived 
it,  especially  on  the  first  night,  from  the  palpitation  of  the 


328  My  Path  Through  Life 

heart  that,  frightening  me,  almost  robbed  me  of  breath,  and 
which  I  then  took  for  extreme  agitation.  I  first  learned  the 
real  cause  of  this  highly  disagreeable  condition  from  Pro- 
fessor Schweninger  and,  more  explicitly  still,  from  Dr. 
Wernecke,  my  physician  thenceforward,  but  much  too  late 
to  my  great  regret,  as  I  should  have  taken  prompt  measures 
if  I  had  known  at  once,  and  could  then  have  guarded  myself 
in  time  from  many  attacks  and  spared  myself  many  un- 
pleasant hours. 


Lilli  Lehmann 
From  an  amateur  photograph  taken  in  1885 


America 
November  1885  to  July  1886 

MY  first  American  journey  had  meanwhile  become  an 
accepted  fact ;  the  contract,  which  bound  me  for  three 
months  to  the  Metropolitan  Opera  at  New  York,  was  signed, 
and  already  rooms  were  engaged  for  me  and  my  companions 
on  the  Eider  of  the  North  German  Lloyd,  sailing  on  Novem- 
ber 4th. 

It  had  been  observed  for  some  years  past  that  Hulsen 
was  changed,  that  his  interest  in  his  work  was  less,  and  that 
his  sceptre  had  slipped  little  by  little  into  the  hands  of  the 
director  of  the  opera,  who  made  things  easy  for  Hulsen, 
but  whose  way  of  managing  was  not  for  the  benefit  of  art. 
This  man  was  not  a  friend  either  to  me  or  our  authoritative 
colleagues,  who  could  easily  understand  his  game.  Some 
young  insignificant  talent  were  favoured  while  the  older 
were  put  in  the  background,  and  he  would  have  preferred 
to  get  rid  of  the  latter  entirely.  I  was  far  too  sensible  not 
to  see  that  it  was  natural  that  one  or  another  of  my  old  r61es 
would  have  to  be  given  up  to  younger  singers,  who  wanted 
to  come  forward  also,  but  I  should  have  been  compensated 
for  that  with  other  rdles,  and  this  was  not  done.  I  had 
also  been  much  less  employed  for  a  long  while  than  formerly, 
which,  because  of  my  small  salary  of  13,500  marks  and  45 
marks  unguaranteed  money  for  each  performance,  that  the 
Emperor  had  increased  for  me  to  90  marks,  meant  a  great 

329 


330  My  Path  Through  Life 

deficiency  when  I  was  occupied  so  little.  If  a  lucky  chance 
had  not  again  come  to  my  assistance  I  should  probably, 
before  my  departure,  have  been  allowed  to  sing  only  the 
part  of  Vielka  in  the  Feldlager,  which,  to  my  regret,  was  again 
in  preparation. 

Frau  von  Voggenhuber  was  suddenly  taken  seriously 
ill.  As  Frau  Sachse  did  not  sing  the  great  dramatic  roles, 
the  management  was  all  at  once  face  to  face  with  the  un- 
pleasant fact  that  neither  the  just  newly  studied  Lucrezia 
Borgia,  nor  the  great  attraction,  the  Walkure,  could  be  given. 
Four  weeks  still  lay  between  me  and  my  departure  to  the 
new  world,  during  which  I  should  have  been  able  to  dedicate 
my  service  "to  the  Fatherland."  In  the  first  embarrassment 
this  was  seized  upon,  and  I  was  actually  permitted  to  sing 
Brunhilde  and  Lucrezia,  in  which  I  had  long  been  at  home. 
The  latter  reminded  me  of  a  really  comic  episode.  The 
charming  ballet,  Vienna  Waltzes,  the  concluding  scene  of 
which  is  played  in  the  Wurstelprater,  had  been  added  to  the 
opera  of  Lucrezia  Borgia.  Several  of  our  colleagues  took 
part  in  it,  and  it  occurred  to  Betz  and  me,  after  the  opera, 
that  we,  likewise,  would  share  in  the  fun.  In  house  dress, 
sheltered  by  a  red  parasol,  Betz-Alfonso  mingled  arm-in- 
arm with  his  wife,  the  poisoner,  Lehmann-Lucrezia,  among 
the  merry  crowds  of  the  Wurstelprater.  Suddenly  we  saw 
my  son,  Genaro  (Paul  Kalisch,  the  newly  engaged  tenor) 
who  had  only  just  been  unexpectedly  poisoned  by  me,  and 
who  was  quite  dead,  take  the  child  from  the  arm  of  a  nurse 
who  was  wandering  about,  lay  it  in  a  basketwork  carriage, 
and  ride  around  with  it,  keeping  always  behind  the  ducal 
couple.  There  was  no  end  to  the  laughter,  and  Hulsen 
joined  in  it,  making  the  best  of  the  matter. 

From  October  4th  to  iQth,  I  sang  both  r61es  twice,  and 
they  drew  so  well  that  I  might  have  continued  to  sing  them 
often  until  November  4th,  and  could  have  turned  it  to  profit 
for  the  opera-house.  Hulsen  was  extraordinarily  content 
with  both  r61es,  a  recognition  that  again  gave  me  honest 


America,  1885,  1886  331 

pleasure.  I  wondered,  therefore,  the  more,  that  I  did  not 
see  them  announced  after  October  iQth.  During  the  last 
performances  I  was  invited  to  London  by  the  firm  of  Stein- 
way,  to  dedicate  their  new  concert  hall  on  October  22d, 
with  the  pianist,  Franz  Rummel.  As  I  was  unemployed, 
I  sent  the  telegram  to  Hulsen  with  the  question  whether  I 
might  be  spared  for  two  days.  I  should  be  again  at  his 
disposition  on  the  24th,  but  so  soon  before  my  long  journey 
I  would  not  mind  if  he  refused.  Hulsen  sent  me  word  after 
some  hours  that  he  granted  the  leave  of  absence,  as  I  was 
not  to  appear  again  before  I  went  to  America.  That  was 
extraordinary!  Frau  von  Voggenhuber  was  ill,  Niemann 
had  to  be  paid  if  he  was  not  employed,  the  great  operas 
could  not  then  be  given  without  me,  and  there  I  sat  in  Berlin 
unoccupied,  and,  according  to  technical  law,  without  leave 
of  absence,  for  eleven  days  more.  That  did  harm,  at  least 
to  the  royal  treasury.  And  no  one  had  taken  the  trouble  to 
announce  to  me,  in  advance,  my  farewell  appearance  or  to 
inform  the  public  of  it. 

A  splendid  wreath  from  "Bayreuth  worshippers"  was 
handed  to  me  at  the  London  concert,  and  the  Duke  of  Edin- 
burgh requested  me,  through  Mr.  Bambridge,  to  take  part 
in  a  church  concert,  but  I  had  to  decline,  unfortunately, 
because  of  my  impending  journey  to  the  United  States.  I 
was  genuinely  tired  after  all  my  work,  was  very  nervous, 
could  not  remain  in  the  melancholy  October  fog,  and  pre- 
ferred to  embark  from  Bremen  rather  than  England. 

On  my  return  to  Berlin  I  asked  Strantz  for  the  reasons, 
still  unknown  to  me,  of  this  extraordinary  treatment,  where- 
upon he  replied,  "You  see,  dear  Lehmann,  we  prefer  to  have 
you  leave  a  fortnight  earlier  and  come  back  to  us  again  a 
fortnight  sooner."  Now  I  knew  whence  the  wind  blew 
even  before  I  became  a  sailor,  and  could  not  resist  a  feeling  of 
mistrust  that  I  had  to  thank  the  management  already  for 
the  exceeding  willingness  it  showed  to  grant  me  leave  of 
absence  for  America,  London,  etc.,  and  I  saw  that,  appar- 


332  My  Path  Through  Life 

ently,  the  farther  away  I  was  the  better  it  was  pleased. 
The  ensuing  events  proved  that  my  suspicion  was  only 
too  well  founded.  I  told  Heir  von  Strantz  at  length  what  I 
thought,  before  I  said  farewell  to  the  Court  Opera  House. 

The  parting  from  my  native  land,  the  first  journey  across 
the  wide  ocean  to  another  world  where  only  the  unknown 
awaited  me,  made  my  heart  heavy.  I  tried  to  be  brave, 
but  I  could  not  control  my  tears  as  I  went  out  by  the  small 
steamer,  Willkommen,  to  the  big  Eider,  with  my  dear  little 
companion,  Hedwig  H ,  and  turned  my  back  on  Eu- 
rope for  a  short  time,  as  I  then  supposed,  which  did  not 
hinder  me  from  often  moving  to  look  at  its  shores. 

As  I  got  a  sight  of  the  bronzed  form  of  our  Captain 
Hellmers,  who  greeted  his  passengers  at  the  ship's  gangway, 
I  extended  him  my  hand  confidently  with  the  firm  convic- 
tion that  this  man  would  watch  over  us.  The  vessel,  that 
appeared  so  small  to  us  in  the  distance,  grew  visibly  before 
our  eyes,  and,  on  board,  every  separate  class  of  passengers 
formed  a  single  family  during  the  ten  to  twelve  days  cross- 
ing. We  were  speedily  settled  in  a  cabin  amidships,  and, 
well  wrapped  up,  I  hurried  on  deck  to  enjoy  the  air  and  sea. 
We  passed  the  red  sand  lighthouse  down  the  Weser  to  the 
North  Sea,  went  by  the  fireships  of  the  Holland  coast,  and  I 
bravely  withstood  the  motion  of  the  waves.  I  was  prudent 
about  heavy  eating  and  drinking,  and  remained  in  the  fresh 
air  until  night  compelled  me  to  go  to  bed.  In  the  morning, 
trumpet  signals,  among  which  the  Siegfried  and  sword 
motifs  were  not  missing,  drove  me  from  the  coffin,  as  I 
preferred  to  call  my  berth,  that  much  resembled  one.  Only 
on  Sundays  were  the  sick  and  well  called  to  breakfast  by 
religious  chorales,  though  the  former  were  made  worse  by  the 
mere  thought  of  the  meal. 

The  motion  continued  slight,  washing  and  dressing 
could  be  easily  performed,  and  I  went  quickly  up  on  deck 
before  breakfast.  We  passed  Dover  about  ten  o'clock,  and 


America,  1885,  1886  333 

went  by  the  beautiful  Isle  of  Wight,  which  I  knew  well, 
and  from  whose  rocks  I  had  seen  many  a  trans-oceanic 
steamer  go  on  her  way  with  the  light  question  whether  I, 
too,  should  some  day  glide  across  in  such  an  one  to  the  new 
world.  Then  we  turned  into  the  narrow  channel  towards 
Southampton,  a  bad  entrance  and  exit  for  large  steamers, 
where  we  took  on  board  the  mail  and  passengers  that  had 
come  by  way  of  England.  I  was  amazed  by  the  sight  of 
nine  hundred  filled  linen  letter  bags,  among  them  a  leather 
despatch  bag  tightly  locked,  called  "the  Bismarck";  further- 
more, seventeen  millions  in  gold  packed  in  small  chests,  each 
of  which  two  men  carried  with  difficulty,  and  that  were  re- 
ceived by  the  purser.  Then  we  said  farewell  to  the  last 
European  landing  place,  and  proceeded,  with  glorious 
weather,  towards  the  distant  scenes  yet  unknown  to  me. 

The  Isle  of  Wight  was  still  close  to  us,  but  with  the  pass- 
ing of  the  fine  "Needles,"  where  I  gave  my  young  niece, 
Hedwig  Helbig,  a  hearty  kiss  for  the  forsaken  home  and  em- 
braced it  in  her,  the  eye  lost  this  last  hold  also,  and  we  were 
carried  away  from  the  mainland  and  given  over  to  the 
ocean.  The  full  surge  of  it  already  made  itself  felt  in  great 
waves  from  our  feet  up  to  the  nerves  of  the  head,  and  we 
hurriedly  sought  our  "coffins"  again,  where  we  spent  thirty- 
six  hours,  waiting  for  a  favourable  opportunity  that  would, 
at  least,  allow  us  in  turn  to  bathe  and  dress.  Still  very 
wobbly,  I  crept  on  deck  the  second  day,  where  I  was  at  once 
received  by  the  first  officer,  a  thoroughgoing  sea  bear,  with 
the  words:  "Well,  to  think  that  you,  who  were  so  brave  in 
the  North  Sea,  have  now  let  yourself  go  under!"  Yes 
indeed,  I  was  ashamed  of  myself  before  him  and  everybody 
else,  with  whom  matters  were  not  much  better.  But  is  it 
so  shameful  if  one  who  is  a  clod  and  who  is  accustomed  to 
move  only  on  the  immovable  earth — or  what  is  so-called — 
cannot  immediately  adapt  himself  to  the  constantly  shift- 
ing motion  of  a  ship  tossed  about  on  the  ocean?  We  per- 
mitted ourselves,  like  all  ladies,  to  be  mothered  or  fathered 


334  My  Path  Through  Life 

by  strange  gentlemen,  and  wrapped  up  in  warm  covers  in 
reclining  chairs  by  stewards  who  brought  us  fruit  (a  restora- 
tive to  the  seasick),  and  we  were  fondled  like  new-born 
children,  whom  one  horribly  resembles  after  the  hideous 
sickness.  I  am  very  proud,  however,  of  the  fact  that  I  never 
relapsed  again,  even  in  the  worst  weather. 

Captain  Hellmers,  who  showed  us  special  attention,  had 
pointed  out  to  me  at  the  start  that  the  officer's  bridge  was 
the  best  place  to  stay,  a  distinction  that  I  did  not  hesitate 
to  make  use  of.  In  this  way,  I  learned  to  know  Hellmers 
and  his  officers  as  splendid  men,  and,  also,  the  whole  tone 
of  the  ship.  Hellmers  took  his  most  responsible  office  with 
pious  seriousness,  looked  after  everything  and  everybody, 
and  insisted  scrupulously  on  order  and  cleanliness ;  he  was  a 
man  in  whose  care  one  felt  secure.  The  captain  does  not 
go  to  bed  in  the  Weser  or  the  canal;  both  watercourses 
demand  his  entire  watchfulness  and  caution;  he  must  have 
his  eyes  everywhere,  for  even  when  the  pilots  are  on  board 
and  have  taken  over  the  command  the  captain  remains 
the  responsible  person.  On  another  trip  with  Hellmers,  I 
was  eye-witness  to  a  very  disagreeable  scene.  We  made 
our  way,  towards  evening  and  with  glorious  weather,  into 
New  York  harbour,  and  a  pilot  was  in  charge.  Not  to  be 
in  the  way,  I  sat  apart  while  the  ship  passed  among  illumi- 
nated buoys.  All  at  once  I  saw  Hellmers  rush  by  me  to 
the  after-deck,  and  heard  him  shout  to  me:  "How  like 
children  they  are;  one  cannot  trust  them  for  a  moment." 
And  then  I  felt  our  gigantic  ship — it  was  the  Lahn — move 
backwards,  in  order  to  get  out  of  the  wrong  channel,  into 
which  the  pilot  had  taken  her.  Only  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean, 
when  all  shores  are  out  of  sight,  may  the  captain  venture 
to  rest,  and  entrust  the  vessel,  with  her  2000  and  more 
passengers  and  all  her  treasure,  to  his  officers  for  hours  at  a 
time. 

The  ocean  is  a  waste.  One  sees  seven  miles  in  front, 
behind,  to  the  right  and  left,  and  still  farther,  if  a  mast 


America,  1885,  1886  335 

rises  above  the  horizon  or  the  smoke  line  of  a  passing  steamer. 
Since  the  routes  of  vessels  have  been  regulated,  often  not  a 
single  one  is  met  in  an  entire  day.  Sometimes  porpoises 
are  seen  by  the  hundreds  gambolling  around  the  ship, 
springing  high  out  of  the  water,  and  swiftly  diving  under 
again,  and  when  they  are  sighted,  by  chance,  from  a  cabin 
port-hole,  jumping  out  and  under,  it  causes  loud  laughter, 
for  the  rascals  are  so  jolly.  It  is  extremely  seldom  that  the 
head  of  a  whale  is  visible,  or  that  they  can  be  seen  in  the 
distance,  spouting  their  fountains.  A  little  seaweed  or 
wood  drifting  in  the  Gulf  Stream,  or  thousands  of  small 
grey  ducks  in  the  vicinity  of  Newfoundland,  often  diving 
up  and  down  by  the  ship  in  the  heavy  northern  mist,  is  about 
all  that  is  attractive  which  is  offered  by  the  ocean  in  winter. 
But  there  is  always  the  purest  salt  sea  air  that  one  cannot 
breathe  in  enough.  On  the  notorious  banks  of  Newfoundland 
it  generally  storms  and  rages  in  cold  and  unfriendly  fashion ; 
but  that  no  longer  caused  us  any  embarrassment.  The 
proximity  of  the  American  coast,  where  splendid  weather 
always  prevails  about  this  season,  soon  made  its  influence 
felt.  Then  came  the  day  of  the  ship's  concert  for  the  benefit 
of  the  Seamen's  Fund,  in  which  no  "travelling  artist" 
refuses  to  join,  and  which  is  the  ambition  of  all  the  "travel- 
ling dilettanti."  This  time  Heir  Leo  Lorenz  (a  partner  of 
Wesendonk's  brother  in  New  York)  played  a  duet  for  violin 
with  the  ship's  doctor,  I  sang,  and  others  played  and 
recited;  at  the  end,  Haydn's  Kindersymphonie  was  per- 
formed by  amateurs  only.  Hedwig  H accompanied 

the  whole  concert.  Immediately  after  the  dinner  (the 
concert  began  an  hour  later),  the  cabins  became  animated. 
One  saw  sheets  of  music  being  fastened  with  pins,  heard 
scales  sung,  and  fiddling,  whistling,  fluting,  and  rattling; 
bangs  were  again  ventured  upon,  and  moustaches  were  waxed ; 
everybody  made  himself  extra  fine.  That  night  the  second 
cabin  was  allowed  in  the  saloon  on  buying  tickets,  and  now 
the  affair  began. 


336  My  Path  Through  Life 

A  bouquet  was  presented  in  the  captain's  name  to  the 
artist  in  question  after  each  piece,  made  delicately  and  artisti- 
cally of  shavings  and  flowers  shaped  from  fresh  vegetables, 
and  that  was  decorated  with  the  waste  used  in  cleaning. 

These  amusements  are  repeated  on  all  trips — the  concert, 
the  betting  on  the  pilot's  number,  and  a  few  games  bring 
some  variety  into  the  monotonous  sameness  that  consists, 
principally,  of  colossal  feeding,  for  the  yard  long  menus, 
that  begin  with  the  first  breakfast,  cannot  be  termed  any- 
thing else.  The  Roman  says  that  man  does  not  die  but 
eats  himself  to  death,  and  it  is  certainly  true  of  the  ocean 
traveller.  One  benefit  I  derived,  however,  from  this  journey ; 
I  slept  all  that  I  possibly  could,  and,  in  this  way,  strength- 
ened myself  for  past  and  future  exhausting  work.  I 
always  slept  with  the  window  open,  as  soon  as  the  state  of 
the  sea  permitted,  and  rubbed  myself  down  every  night  with 
salt  water,  for,  in  those  days,  one  could  not  have  baths,  as 
in  the  '90*5,  every  day  and  every  hour. 

One  becomes  acquainted  with  many  people  on  an  ocean 
trip;  many,  thank  God,  that  one  never  meets  again,  and 
others  that  one  becomes  intimate  with  for  life.  As,  on 
subsequent  journeys,  I  no  longer  took  everybody  to  be  good 
coin  that  made  a  fine  appearance,  I  sometimes  was  com- 
pelled to  think  to  myself,  who  knows  what  this  or  that 
one  has  done,  and  I  soon  looked  upon  any  person  that  the 
captain  did  not  know  as  a  criminal. 

When  we  saw,  early  on  November  I4th,  a  narrow  white 
line  on  the  horizon  to  the  right,  I  asked  an  officer  if  that 
could  be  land.  Hurrah!  It  was  the  American  coast,  and 
soon  we  should  see  Fire  Island.  "How  wonderful  it  is," 
I  said  to  myself  "that  one  arrives."  "Yes,"  said  the  first 
officer,  "we  ourselves  sometimes  wonder  that  we  are  arriving 
again!"  The  meaning  of  this  was  only  made  clear  to  me  on 
later  journeys,  when  severe  storms  retarded  us  for  a  long 
time,  or  drove  us  forty  to  fifty  miles  out  of  our  course. 

As  early  as  noon  we   entered,  from  Sandy  Hook,  the 


America,  1885,  1886  337 

glorious  harbour  of  New  York!  How  splendid  it  is!  The 
charming  shore  covered  with  trees  and  shrubs  of  variegated 
autumnal  hues,  from  which  cosy  houses  shone  forth;  the 
sea  that  reflected  the  blue  of  the  sunny  sky;  Governors 
Island,  from  where,  every  evening,  a  cannon-shot  announces 
the  setting  of  the  sun;  the  Statue  of  Liberty  near  Staten 
Island,  and,  on  the  right,  a  phantastical  web  that  swings 
above  the  river  and  the  city — the  wonderful  Brooklyn 
Bridge.  It  is  an  overwhelming  triumph  of  German  genius, 
that  produces  a  more  powerful  effect  the  oftener  one  becomes 
lost  in  contemplation  of  it.  And  then  one  sees  large  and  small 
ferryboats  that  carry  thousands  of  men,  vehicles,  and  whole 
railroad  trains  across,  up  or  down  the  stream.  What  a 
sight,  what  life!  And,  above  everything,  a  southern  blue 
sky.  There  is  no  smoke  over  the  city  from  chimneys  or 
flues,  only  light,  white  steam;  everything  is  clear  and  pure. 
Our  Eider  again  appeared  majestic  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
human  dwellings  and  labours.  But  the  Brooklyn  Bridge 
is  supernatural,  and  will  continue  to  be  so.  Under  it  pass 
great  sailing  vessels  with  high  masts  and  steamships  of 
every  sort.  Ah,  this  harbour  of  New  York!  How  often 
did  I  ride  about  for  hours  on  a  ferry-boat,  in  the  middle  of 
winter,  in  the  midst  of  storm  and  rain,  tempest  and  cold, 
when  the  ice  often  cracked  and  burst  on  all  sides,  and,  with 
astonishment,  I  drank  in  delightedly  what  forced  itself  upon 
my  attention.  I  loved  this  harbour  in  my  heart  of  hearts, 
and  it  was  an  unfailing  joy.  Not  another  one  of  all  the 
artists  can  have  given  it  such  devotion,  nor  have  gazed  upon 
it  and  admired  it  again  and  again  with  such  grateful  senti- 
ments for  a  happy  fate  and  all  the  love  that  America  gave 
me. 

In  earlier  times,  when  an  impresario  brought  over  cele- 
brated artists  for  the  "Show,"  as  concerts  and  theatrical 
performances  are  still  called  in  the  West,  a  word  that  com- 
bines for  the  people  the  idea,  handed  down  from  the  past, 
of  a  circus  and  menagerie,  they  used  to  be  received  down 


338  My  Path  Through  Life 

the  harbour  by  a  special  boat  with  music.  In  my  time  this 
had  been  done  away  with ;  the  Metropolitan  Opera  no  longer 
had  need  of  such  means  of  advertisement;  not  even  flowers 
might  be  presented  any  longer  on  the  stage — a  bad  custom 
that  I  worked  zealously  to  wipe  out,  as  I  worked  for  all 
reforms  that  promoted  art,  and  I  have  a  good  right  to  be 
proud  of  the  fact.  On  this  occasion  only  some  newspaper 
interviewers  appeared,  who  approached  me,  at  once,  with 
the  question,  "How  do  you  like  America?"  Good  heavens, 
how  can  one  have  an  opinion  of  America  without  having  set 
foot  on  its  soil!  But  some  one  nudged  me  to  reply,  it  is 
fine,  and  I  said  "very  much."  It  is  enough  to  make  one's 
hair  rise  to  read  what  stuff  is  served  up  to  newspaper  readers 
after  these  interviews,  and  one  is  often  seized  with  a  desire 
to  trump  over  their  incredible  questions  with  still  more  in- 
credible replies.  But  one  is  polite  in  America,  and  spares 
himself  and  others  annoyance  and  agitation ;  each  individual 
is  his  own  master,  and,  thereby,  more  is  gained  than  lost. — 
I  was  welcomed  by  Manager  Habelmann  in  the  name  of 
the  directors. 

The  customs  formalities  were  gone  through  on  the  boat, 
which  did  not  prevent  one  being  obliged  to  remain  for  hours 
on  the  draughty  pier  on  account  of  the  baggage  examination. 
I  was  asked  whether  I  had  brought  any  presents  with  me. 
"Oh,  no,"  I  replied,  "but  I  hope  to  receive  some  here." 
(I  was  not  in  earnest.) 

Now  a  farewell  had  to  be  taken  from  the  captain,  whom 
I  left  with  a  real  debt  of  thanks  for  all  the  caution  and  devo- 
tion to  duty  with  which  he  had  conducted  our  voyage,  and 
with  whom  I  am  still  in  most  friendly  relations.  When  I 
asked  him,  twenty  years  later,  why  he  did  not  wish  to  "sail" 
any  longer,  he  replied,  "I  think  I  have  sailed  enough.  It  is 
sufficient,  believe  me,  to  have  the  tremendous  responsibility 
for  so  many  human  lives  during  twenty-one  voyages  in  a 
year."  We  said  good-bye  to  the  officers  and  crew,  and  to 
all  who  had  been  shut  up  with  us  in  our  ark,  and  who  were 


America,  1885,  1886  339 

now  to  be  scattered  to  the  four  winds.  We  were  securely 
seated  in  the  carriage  that  bore  us  through  a  couple  of  dirty, 
unevenly  paved  streets  in  Hoboken  that  had  dangerous  holes 
in  them,  but  where  the  small  houses,  painted  red  or  blue, 
produced  a  bright  effect ;  then  we  found  ourselves  on  a  large 
ferryboat  that  carried  us  to  the  opposite  shore  of  the  splendid 
and  animated  Hudson.  There  also  the  mud  and  the  pave- 
ment were  not  much  better,  and  New  York  became  pre- 
sentable only  in  Fifth  Avenue  and  Broadway. 

We  soon  stopped  at  the  Hotel  Normandie  on  38th  Street, 
that  was  to  shelter  us  for  the  next  three  months.  The 
committee  had  taken  three  rooms  and  bath  for  me  on  the 
first  floor,  and  considered  that  they  were,  thereby,  showing 
special  honour  to  the  prima  donna.  But  within  an  hour  we 
had  moved  up  to  the  seventh  floor  away  from  the  street  noise, 
from  where  we  had  the  most  superb  view  over  the  city  and 
the  Palisades  (rocks)  that  were  situated  opposite  across  the 
Hudson,  the  mountains  of  New  Jersey,  the  Statue  of  Liberty, 
and  a  part  of  the  harbour.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  an 
idea  of  the  clearness  of  the  American  sky  or  of  the  atmos- 
phere, saturated  with  electricity,  that  plays  many  merry 
pranks  with  the  stranger.  Gorgeous  sunsets  made  the  view 
more  beautiful  every  evening,  and  the  lingering  twilight 
was  splendidly  effective  as  it  spread  in  orange-coloured  tones 
over  the  whole  western  sky  as  I  have  never  seen  it  elsewhere. 
When  the  evening  star,  that  appeared  to  be  much  larger 
than  in  Europe,  became  visible,  there  was  another  wonder 
to  be  enjoyed.  Then  darkness  fell  suddenly,  and  at  dawn, 
that  comes  late,  this  process  was  reversed. 

A  single  street  separated  the  Hotel  Normandie  from  the 
Metropolitan  Opera  House,  that  contained  not  only  a  huge 
theatre,  but  also  large  halls,  assembly  rooms,  and  an  apart- 
ment hotel  with  restaurant,  and  which  occupied  an  entire 
street  block.  The  auditorium,  that  was  divided  into  three 
galleries,  contained  comfortable  arm-chairs  and  boxes,  with 


340  My  Path  Through  Life 

yellow  satin  curtains  and  seats,  and  made  an  impression  of 
simplicity,  and,  for  that  very  reason,  of  distinction.  When 
the  house  was  filled  at  the  evening  performances  with  the 
most  beautiful  and  elegant  women  that  I  have  ever  seen, 
and  reflected  the  brilliancy  of  their  beauty  and  of  the  lights, 
the  effect  was  artistically  harmonious.  A  classically  simple 
plush  curtain,  artistically  perfect  in  colour  and  design,  sepa- 
rated the  auditorium  from  the  stage,  and  elegant  and  com- 
fortable dressing-rooms  made  the  artists'  occupancy  of  them 
most  agreeable.  Large  foyers,  from  which  wide  doors  led 
almost  directly  to  the  street,  ensured  the  audience  a  speedy 
exit  in  case  of  fire,  the  importance  of  this  becoming  apparent 
as  soon  as  acquaintance  was  made  with  American  careless- 
ness ;  I  mean  the  throwing  away  of  burning  cigars  or  cigarettes 
and  the  constant  bonfires  made  by  the  dear  young  people. 

The  origin  of  this  luxurious  abode  of  art  reminds  one  of 
a  tale  from  the  Thousand  and  One  Nights,  luxurious,  because 
the  Italian  opera  season  had  dedicated  it  two  years  previously 
with  the  stars,  Patti,  Nilsson,  Albani,  and  others,  and  it 
had  swallowed  up  frightful  sums  of  money  (partly  returned 
in  profits  indeed)  because,  aside  from  the  immense  salaries, 
every  costume,  every  shoe  and  stocking  was  provided  for  it 
by  Worth  of  Paris. 

Up  to  this  time  the  home  of  the  opera  had  been  in  the 
Academy  of  Music,  an  elegant  opera-house  in  I4th  Street, 
with  fine  acoustics.  But  as,  on  a  particular  evening,  one  of 
the  beautiful  millionairesses  did  not  receive  the  box  in  which 
she  intended  to  shine  because  another  beautiful  woman  had 
anticipated  her,  the  husband  of  the  former  took  prompt 
action  and  caused  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  to  arise, 
wherein  his  beloved  wife  might  dazzle.  Thither  everybody 
now  streamed,  and  the  old  Academy  of  Music  was  quickly 
forgotten. 

Opera  was  given  on  Monday,  Wednesday,  and  Friday 
evenings,  beginning  at  eight  o'clock,  and  lasting  until  almost 
midnight.  On  Saturday  afternoons,  and,  later,  also,  on 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Carmen 

From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin,  taken  in  1884 


America,  1885,  1886  341 

Wednesdays,  matinees  were  given  from  two  to  half-past 
five  o'clock,  especially  for  subscribers  living  out  of  town,  and 
attended  chiefly  by  ladies  only,  who  did  not  recognise  any 
necessity  for  elaborate  toilettes.  The  audience  was  serious, 
like  the  clothes  that  it  wore,  and  it  cannot  be  said  that  it 
looked  very  gay.  These  matinees  were  always  my  great 
distress,  as  long  as  I  sang  there  on  the  other  side.  I  never 
could  accustom  my  moods  to  the  sober  afternoon  period, 
that  worked  contrary  to  all  the  charm  of  the  evening  per- 
formances, and  that  never  afforded  me  the  least  satisfaction, 
either  in  concerts  or  opera. 

I  was,  also,  often  compelled  to  recall  a  little  anecdote  to 
the  effect  that  an  apparent  native,  a  bootblack,  revealed 
himself  to  some  German  visitors  to  the  island  of  Java  as  a 
genuine  Saxon,  painted  brown,  with  the  words,  "Eh,  Hen- 
Jesus,  are  you,  also,  from  Dresden?"  as  old  acquaintances  of 
mine  turned  up  everywhere.  That  was  not  remarkable  for 
New  York,  but,  in  the  Far  West,  also,  one  found  ties  with 
one's  home,  childhood,  youth,  and  parents,  and  every- 
where sounded  the  electrical  heart  and  home  apparatus  of 
the  great,  little  world.  I  met  there  again,  as  colleagues,  the 
jovial  Emil  Fischer,  from  Dresden,  and  Adolf  Robinson, 
who  sought  to  console  themselves  for  the  absence  of  the 
dear  dramatic  Rosa  (Fischer)  by  playing  away  at  poker 
against  each  other  the  beautiful  American  salaries,  while, 
besides  them,  there  was  my  dear  colleague,  Marianne  Brandt, 
who  had  been  engaged  here  already  the  previous  season. 

I  began  with  Carmen  on  November  25th,  and  repeated  it 
on  the  28th  at  the  matinee,  and,  as  the  orchestra  had  to  be 
paid  extra  on  Sundays,  the  rehearsal  for  the  Walkure,  lasting 
from  eight  to  one  o'clock  at  night,  took  place  Saturday  after 
the  Carmen  matinee,  although  that  never  happened  to  me 
again.  The  Walkure  had  a  marvellous  success,  and,  even 
at  the  beginning  of  the  second  act,  a  storm  of  enthusiasm 
greeted  us  that  continued  during  the  whole  evening.  Then 
the  Queen  of  Sheba  was  brought  out  with  a  gorgeous 


342  My  Path  Through  Life 

mounting  that  cost  $80,000.  An  immense  army  of  super- 
numeraries, real  brown  and  black  slaves,  with  women  and 
children,  was  at  the  command  of  the  theatre,  and  I  envied 
them  for  their  complexions,  for  I  would  have  liked  to  have 
painted  myself  for  Aida  just  their  colour.  Jokingly,  I  asked 
one  of  the  brown  rogues  where  he  got  the  colour  that  he 
used,  whereat  he  answered  me  quite  angrily,  "Oh,  I  am 
not  coloured!"  When  the  children  knelt  and  stood  before 
King  Solomon  with  their  presents,  a  little  stream  meandered 
forth  from  the  brown  group  of  little  ones,  rippled  serenely 
and  certainly  towards  the  prompter's  box,  and  there  dis- 
appeared unobtrusively,  but  left  its  trace  behind,  to  the 
delight  of  the  audience.  Every  country  has  its  customs ! 

The  intermissions  were  terrible  in  these  already  lengthy 
operas,  and  reminded  one  vividly  of  Bayreuth.  The  opera- 
house  was  not  equipped  for  the  newest  mechanical  demands ; 
no  one  was  accustomed  to  work  rapidly,  and  so  every  change 
turned  into  a  trial  of  patience  for  the  German  management 
and  artists,  and  I  was  often  brought  to  despair.  It  was 
delayed  by  requests  like,  "Please  bring  me  a  lath,  please 
let  me  have  another  nail  here,  please  fasten  these  steps, 
this  barrier,  this  bench,  the  carpet.  Then  everything 
was  attended  to  at  a  snail's  pace.  I  once  advised  that 
the  workers  should  be  promised  extra  pay,  as  Director 
Lowe  did  at  Breslau,  if  they  finished  an  hour  earlier » 
and  that  the  next  time  the  same  amount  should  be 
taken  away,  in  case  they  were  not  ready.  The  method 
was  well  planned  but  was  not  approved.  So  everything 
continued  to  dawdle  along  calmly,  and  there  was  a  never- 
ending  conflict  between  my  patience  and  the  customs  of  the 
world  across  the  seas.  I  gave  my  own  assistance  every- 
where, so  as  not  to  be  put  out  by  a  fall,  by  being  killed,  or 
torn  in  pieces.  Finally,  I  accomplished  so  much  that  Mr. 
Stanton,  our  very  elegant  young  director,  who  afterwards 
called  himself  "Intendant,"  but  who  was  really  secretary 
of  the  big  enterprise,  shook  all  the  wings  with  his  white 


America,  1885,  1886  343 

kid  gloves,  or  ran  up  and  downstairs  to  try  their  solidity 
before  the  curtain  rose,  and  at  last  I  became  mistress 
also  of  the  incredible  confusion  behind  the  scenes,  where 
everybody  tramped  about,  whistled,  talked  aloud,  slammed 
doors,  etc.  I  declared  that  I  did  not  wish  to  sing  any 
further,  and  that  helped  matters,  for  it  became  as  quiet  as  a 
mouse,  the  workmen  were  given  soft  shoes,  and  Mr.  Stanton 
now  began  both  to  hear  and  to  see.  Sometimes  I  swore  in 
pure  German — I  am  aware  it  was  not  ladylike — but  I 
swore  all  the  same  to  clear  the  air  about  me,  and  finally  I 
succeeded. 

On  December  iQth,  I  sang  the  Messiah,  in  English,  after 
the  matinee  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  and  I  sang  it  as  a  requiem 
for  our  old  friend,  Frau  Romer,  whose  death  had  just 
been  announced  to  us,  to  my  real  sorrow.  Then,  right 
after  Christmas,  we  went  for  two  weeks  to  the  Quakers 
at  Philadelphia,  and,  on  March  7th,  the  season  ended  in 
New  York,  as  no  one  went  to  the  opera  in  the  weeks  of 
fasting  called  Lent.  Times  have  changed;  what  was  then 
considered  a  sin  is  now  the  fashion,  without  remember- 
ing the  sin  at  all.  Our  charitable  impulses  were  satisfied 
by  one  concert  for  the  benefit  of  Bayreuth,  a  second  for 
the  chorus,  and  a  third  for  the  German  clinic. 

Anton  Seidl,  Richard  Wagner's  favourite  pupil,  was  the 
conductor — the  most  talented  and  earnest  of  the  Bayreuth 
Guild  of  1876.  He  has  always  been  to  me  the  best  of  all 
Wagner  conductors,  who,  beginning  under  Angelo  Neumann, 
used  the  baton  flexibly  and  unobtrusively,  without  seeking 
after  sensational  effects  in  conducting.  I  may  say,  indeed, 
that  we  were  happy  under  his  perfect  leading,  and  he  also, 
on  the  other  hand,  must  be  deemed  fortunate  that  he  needed 
only  to  follow,  in  an  intellectual  sense,  so  many  artistic 
authorities,  which  made  it  possible  for  both  sides  to  give 
admirable  renderings.  We  understood  each  other,  and  not 
the  slightest  discord  ever  arose  between  the  artists  up 


344  My  Path  Through  Life 

above  and  the  conductor  down  below,  who  led  his  splendid 
orchestra  so  gloriously.  German  opera  owes  much  to 
Anton  Seidl.  Here  was  illustrated  once  more  how  bril- 
liantly very  many  "authorities"  could  work  together,  and 
how  much  better  it  is  for  an  opera-house  to  be  provided  with 
many  artists  trained  in  a  good  school,  than  to  be  one  where 
the  management,  instead  of  dealing  with  artistic  talent,  at- 
tempts to  produce  works  of  art  with  dolls  who  are  manipu- 
lated by  strings. 

The  position  of  assistant  conductor  was  filled  by  Walter 
Damrosch,  who  was  still  very  young  and  who  had  talent  and 
great  audacity,  but  who  was  then  without  any  maturity, 
which  was  not  to  be  expected  of  him.  There  was  often 
friction  between  Walter  Damrosch  and  myself, — as,  for 
instance,  when  he  did  not  adhere,  at  the  pianoforte  rehearsal, 
to  the  piano  score,  but  wandered  off  into  variations,  because 
three  equal  eighth  notes  seemed  to  him  too  tiresome.  Nei- 
ther Halevy  nor  Bellini  needed  to  endure  it,  and,  in  this  case, 
I  felt  that  I  represented  the  composers  that  he  ill-treated, 
while,  on  other  points,  also,  I  had  occasion  to  put  him  right. 
We  were  quite  good  friends,  however,  as  I  saw  that  he  under- 
stood how  to  accept  sound  advice  with  humour,  for  Walter 
Damrosch  was  clever  and  knew  what  he  was  about. 

The  opera-house  was  rented,  on  the  free  days,  to  other 
organisations,  and  Theodore  Thomas  held  the  public  Phil- 
harmonic rehearsals  there.  I  was  present  at  one  of  these 
rehearsal  concerts  when  I  noticed  something  in  the  tone  of 
the  orchestra  that  had  never  struck  me  elsewhere.  What 
might  it  be?  I  gave  myself  up  to  the  enchantment  of  it 
over  and  over  again,  until,  after  much  speculating,  I  was  able 
to  explain  the  wonder  to  myself.  The  violins  used  their 
bows  in  unison  so  that  eye  and  ear  were  soothed ;  the  wood- 
wind, who  suited  their  tone  and  sound  colour  exactly  on 
their  entrance  to  the  instruments  that  had  preceded  them, 
were  not  shrill  or  inharmonious  as  we  are  accustomed  to 
hear  them,  but  mingled  with  soft  unobtrusiveness  and 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Carmen 
From  a  photograph  by  J.  C.  Schaarwachter,  Berlin,  taken  in  1884 


America,  1885,  l886  345 

melodiously  in  the  volume  of  tone,  without  one  perceiving 
where  they  or  the  other  instruments  came  in  and  dropped 
out.  That  was  the  solution  of  the  riddle,  and  was  the  spell 
that  had  charmed  me.  Why  do  nearly  all  instrumentalists 
suffer  such  an  effect  to  escape  them,  and  why  are  not  the  con- 
ductors alive  to  it? 

Once  when  Thomas  resumed  the  rehearsal  after  a  pause, 
he  rapped  again  to  stop  his  men,  and,  turning  to  the  orches- 
tra, said,  "But,  children,  tune  your  instruments;  it  is  quite 
unbearable!"  I  must  admit  that  I  had  not  perceived  any- 
thing especially  impure,  in  spite  of  my  keen  ear.  To-day, 
indeed,  when  my  sense  of  pitch  has  been  enormously  refined 
by  study,  I  would  be  able  to  hear  that  which  Thomas  heard 
then.  Thomas  was  a  man,  take  him  all  in  all,  to  whom  I 
would  like  to  erect  a  monument,  for  he  was  a  sound  kernel  in 
a  rough  shell,  and  music,  that  is,  his  ideal  art,  was  as  exalted 
to  him  as  mine  is  to  me.  I  cannot  say  that  he  was  a  graceful 
conductor,  but  his  orchestra  understood  him,  and  he  made 
no  concessions  to  the  American  public  when  he  wished  to  in- 
struct it,  by  sparing  it  anything  he  proposed  to  carry  through. 
He  performed  the  Mephisto  Waltz  of  Liszt,  thus,  for  the 
first  time  in  New  York.  The  audience,  accustomed  only 
to  Italian  or  classical  music,  whistled  and  hissed  down  the 
orchestra  and  compelled  Thomas  to  stop.  Several  attempts 
to  resume  were  made  in  vain.  Then  Thomas  took  his  watch 
in  his  hand,  enforced  quiet,  and  turned  to  the  audience  with 
the  following  words:  "I  give  you  five  minutes  to  leave  the 
hall;  then  we  shall  play  the  waltz  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end.  Who  wishes  to  listen  without  making  a  demonstra- 
tion may  do  so;  I  request  all  others  to  go,  I  will  carry  out 
my  purpose  if  I  have  to  remain  standing  here  until  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning — I  have  plenty  of  time."  The 
audience  remained,  listened  to  the  whole  waltz,  and 
Thomas  triumphed.  He  often  gained  such  victories  and 
showed  himself  master.  After  a  splendidly  performed 
Fugue  by  Bach,  arranged  by  Robert  Franz,  that  had  not 


346  My  Path  Through  Life 

been  enthusiastically  received — where  would  that  have 
happened? — he  said  disdainfully  of  the  audience,  "I  like  it, 
if  they  don't. "  "So  do  I,"  I  might  have  replied  to  him, 
as  I  revelled  in  it,  and  was  entirely  of  his  opinion. 

Immediately  after  the  first  performances,  offers  came  to 
me  from  the  opera  and  other  agencies  to  return  and  to  re- 
main altogether  in  America.  The  latter  I  refused  positively. 
Then  the  Steinways  approached  me  with  a  proposal  to  stay 
a  month  longer  in  the  States  after  the  close  of  the  season, 
and  they  offered  me  a  sum  for  the  thirty  concerts  that  it 
would  have  taken  me  three  years  of  singing  in  Berlin  to  earn. 
It  was  of  course  very  enticing  to  carry  this  amount  away 
with  me,  and  I  was  very  willing  to  make  this  special 
request  of  our  General-Intendant,  from  whose  understand- 
ing of  such  situations,  well  known  to  me,  I  might  hope  for 
the  fulfilment  of  my  wish.  Before  this  happened,  however, 
the  opera  committee  pressed  me  again  to  free  myself  from 
my  Berlin  contract,  and  to  bind  myself  to  New  York  for 
several  years.  As  openly  as  I  confess  that  this  big  offer  was 
extremely  tempting  to  me,  just  as  frankly  do  I  state  that  I 
was  absolutely  disinclined  to  accept,  and  took  counsel  for  a 
long  time  with  myself,  then  with  a  circle  of  elderly,  well- 
balanced,  business  men,  namely,  William  Steinway,  Otten- 
dorfer,oftheNewYork5toa^Z^/wwg,  Carl  Schurz,  and  others 
whom  I  asked  to  join  in  a  conference  at  Ottendorfer's,  before 
I  came  to  the  following  resolution  after  considering  the  pros 
and  cons :  as  I  intended  to  take  with  me,  if  it  were  possible, 
the  amount  guaranteed  for  the  concerts,  I  should  ask  Hiilsen 
for  an  extension  of  my  leave  of  absence,  and  should  support 
my  petition  by  preparing  him  for  the  probable  consequences 
of  an  unfavourable  reply,  as  I  might  then  see  myself  com- 
pelled, perhaps,  to  accept  the  offers  of  the  Metropolitan  Opera. 
Then,  of  course,  I  would  release  myself  from  my  Berlin 
contract,  and,  in  case  it  was  declared  I  had  broken  my  con- 
tract, would  place  personally  in  the  hands  of  the  General- 


America,  1885,  1886  347 

Intendant,  immediately  upon  my  return,  the  conventional 
penalty  of  13,500  marks  provided  for  in  the  contract.  I 
wrote  this  out  in  duplicate  copies  and  sent  them  to  Hulsen 
by  different  steamers.  Contrary  to  my  expectation,  my 
request  for  an  extension  of  my  leave  of  absence  was  not 
granted,  and,  from  the  day  of  my  non-arrival,  I  was  put 
down  every  night  on  the  programme  as  having  broken 
my  contract. 

Niemann  went  about  this  more  cleverly  the  following 
year,  and  addressed  his  petition,  indirectly  through  Hulsen, 
to  the  Emperor  himself,  who  promptly  granted  it.  How  little 
my  intuition  had  deceived  me  with  respect  to  Herr  von 
Strantz  was  proved  by  his  remark  at  a  discussion  of  my 
violation  of  contract,  and  which  my  old  friend,  Mensing, 
accidentally  overheard  at  a  social  gathering,  "We  are  lucky 
to  be  rid  of  Lehmann;  she  is  forty  and  would  soon  have 
become  a  charge  upon  the  pension  fund."  This  really 
happened  in  April,  1886. 

On  the  occasion  of  Paul  Lindau's  seventieth  birthday,  in 
whose  honour  I  sang  the  Allmacht  in  the  circle  of  the  artists 
who  surrounded  him,  I  saw  Strantz  again  for  the  first  time. 
I  could  not  resist  saying  sweetly  to  my  former  director,  who 
was  guilelessly  smiling  at  me,  "Well,  my  dear  Strantz,  I  am 
not  yet  pensioned  off,  and  it  is  certainly  twenty-five  years 
ago  that  I  left  Berlin  and  you  considered  me  ready  for 
it." 

My  resolution  was  not  quite  so  easily  taken  as  I  write  it 
to-day.  It  called  for  much  courage,  strong  self-confidence, 
and  a  careful  balancing  of  what  was  to  be  gained  and  lost 
thereby.  I  should  not  have  been  inclined,  for  the  sake  of  the 
money  alone,  to  separate  myself  from  the  abodes  of  art  that 
were  dear  to  me  then,  together  with  much  else,  that  I  still 
love  to-day.  I  have  never  forgotten  what  I  became  there, 
but  my  inclination,  talent,  and  ambition  clamoured  for 
stronger  recognition,  and,  out  of  the  fulness  of  my  powers 
and  depths  of  my  feeling,  I  craved  a  dramatic  field  of  labour, 


348  My  Path  Through  Life 

that  I  had  so  long  desired,  and  which  would  never  have  been 
given  me  in  Berlin,  as  I  well  knew,  except  in  an  emergency, 
and  as  an  occasional  opportunity.  Henceforward,  I  could 
place  myself,  without  interference,  on  the  artistic  stage  that 
belonged  to  me,  that  had  beckoned  to  me  so  long  as  the  goal 
of  my  efforts,  and  that  now  offered  me,  for  the  first  and 
perhaps  for  the  last  time,  the  completest  opportunity.  It  is 
good  luck  to  seize  the  moment  when  it  comes,  and  I  have 
never  been  forced  to  regret  that  I  thus  took  hold  of  my  des- 
tiny. My  self-confidence  could  not  delude  me  any  more,  for 
it  was  tested,  and  my  device,  "Ever  onward,  ever  higher," 
carried  me  to  the  goal. 

What  I  abandoned  was  not  little,  and  what  I  purposed  to 
conquer  was  illimitable;  either  without  the  other  could  not 
be  achieved.  I  was  standing  close  to  the  aim  of  my  aspira- 
tions, and  could  not  be  so  cowardly  as  to  rest  or  look  back. 
My  course  may  have  appeared  wrong  and  ungrateful  at  that 
time  to  some  persons,  perhaps  to  many,  and  yet  I  owed  it  to 
myself.  While  I  now  can  survey  my  experiences  without 
rancour  and  with  a  heart  full  of  gratitude,  I  should  have 
become  embittered,  without  ever  reaching  my  goal,  as  a 
royal  office-holder  dependent  on  the  favour  of  an  intendant, 
director,  or  manager,  and,  by  degrees,  should  have  either 
been  condemned  to  third-class  roles  or,  as  Strantz  supposed, 
placed  as  a  charge,  twenty-five  years  ago,  on  the  royal 
pension  list. 

No,  artists  are  divinely  endowed,  and  are  not  created  to 
be  functionaries.  They  should  learn  betimes  to  manage 
themselves,  and  to  be  their  own  strictest  judges.  Their 
ambition  should  not  be  hemmed  in  and  their  talents  should 
not  be  compressed  in  a  vice.  They  should  not  be  compelled 
to  beg  for  their  lifework,  but  should  perform  it  with  delight 
to  the  joy  and  exaltation  of  humanity.  The  free  artist  of 
the  dramatic  stage  is  the  only  being,  perhaps,  who  reaches 
his  ideal  approximately — who  spends  himself  in  his  high 
calling,  and  who  may  live  out  his  life  in  the  individual  tasks, 


America,  1885,  1886  349 

agreeable  to  him  and  his  genius,  set  by  our  great  and  most 
great  masters. 

It  was  glorious  on  the  Hudson,  which,  in  its  northern 
portion,  flows  by  the  Catskill  Mountains,  reminding  me 
strongly  of  the  Rhine,  when  we  saw  it  quietly  and  peacefully 
slumbering,  still  wrapped  in  a  blue  veil,  as  our  train  rushed 
along  its  shores.  It  is  true  that  it  lacks  fortresses  and  castles 
with  their  legends  and  memories,  that  is,  we  have  none  of 
the  latter  because  we  did  not  see  them  preserved  in  crumb- 
ling stone  walls,  old  towers,  and  weather-beaten  ramparts. 
But  it  certainly  possesses  legends  of  the  Indians  and  of 
many  other  peoples  that  wandered  by  it,  during  centuries, 
lived  there,  and  were  then  wiped  out.  The  unhappy  Red- 
skins have  been  driven  away  to  distant  regions,  where, 
hiding  themselves  in  terror  from  every  stranger,  they  are 
likely  to  succumb  entirely  to  English  brandy.  What  a  pity 
it  is!  They  belong  to  the  landscape  in  this  country,  which, 
without  them,  would  have  been  quite  different.  The  effort 
should  be  made  to  preserve  at  least  a  few  tribes  for  America, 
instead  of  systematically  exterminating  them.  One  Sunday 
we  visited  a  little  church  on  Lake  Ontario,  in  which  an 
Englishman  preached  to  about  forty  Indians,  and  one  of  the 
latter  translated  the  sermon  into  his  own  language.  I  leave 
the  question  undecided  whether  these  people  have  become 
happier  through  Christianity.  I  felt  deep  pity  for  these 
men  whose  country  I  was  learning  to  know,  and  whose  life 
and  customs  I  had,  by  the  aid  of  Sealsfield,  already  grown  to 
love. 

On  its  way  westward,  our  train  passed  electrically  lighted, 
blooming  towns  and  settlements  (it  was  twenty-seven  years 
ago),  crossed  the  broad  Susquehanna  to  blue  Lake  Erie  and 
Lake  Ontario,  which  are  connected  by  the  splendid  Niagara 
River  and  Falls,  and  went  on  by  Lake  Michigan,  the  largest 
of  the  three,  to  Chicago  and  Milwaukee.  We  continued,  by 
the  Detroit  River,  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  returned  to 


350  My  Path  Through  Life 

New  York,  only  to  go  again  in  one  breath  to  Minneapolis  and 
her  sister  city,  St.  Paul,  up  to  the  Falls  of  the  Mississippi, 
and,  two  days  afterwards,  along  the  whole  of  that  river, 
sitting  on  the  platform  of  the  car,  for  forty-six  hours,  travel- 
ling down  to  St.  Louis  and  Louisville  on  the  Ohio  and 
Missouri  rivers. 

As,  until  then,  I  had  seen  nothing  of  the  interior  of  the 
country,  I  was  interested  in  every  little  mound  of  earth, 
every  tiny  house,  every  bird,  in  everything  whatsoever  that 
my  eyes  could  take  in.  I  was  grieved  by  the  barbarous  de- 
struction of  the  primeval  forests.  When  I  rushed  by  tracts 
where  the  burned  and  charred  giant  trees  stood  here  and 
there,  as  signs  of  man's  passion  for  destroying,  I  was  seized 
by  actual  sorrow,  and  for  several  hours  I  lost  all  pleasure  in 
looking  out.  How  charming  it  was,  on  the  other  hand, 
when  the  robins,  and  a  kind  of  starling  with  a  red  patch  on 
the  breast  resembling  the  blood-breasted  pigeon,  clung  to 
the  reeds;  when  the  American  quail,  with  their  fascinating 
nodding  black  feathers  on  their  heads,  hunted  for  food  in 
the  thickets,  or  when  thousands  of  turtles  of  every  size, 
in  the  swampy  regions  near  St.  Louis,  lay  in  the  sun  im- 
movable on  old  logs,  trunks  of  trees,  thick  branches,  rocks, 
etc.,  looking  as  though  they  themselves  were  old  pieces  of 
black  wood.  And  the  cows  on  lonely  farms  looked  most 
absurd  in  winter,  covered,  for  protection  from  the  cold,  with 
old  parti-coloured  patchwork  quilts,  as  they  stood  browsing 
on  what  was  left  of  the  cornstalks  in  the  bare  fields.  Horses 
and  asses  stood  untied  in  their  stalls,  and  gazed  at  their  ease 
out  of  large  windows;  they  are  never  turned  with  their 
heads  to  the  wall,  which  is  the  stupidest  thing  that  can  be 
done  to  an  animal  that  is  able  to  observe. 

Now  that  I  am  on  the  subject  of  horses,  let  me  say  at 
once  how  happy  I  have  felt  in  New  York,  where  the  flogging 
of  horses  is  forbidden,  the  whip  being  scarcely  known  except 
in  name,  where  no  more  is  exacted  from  a  horse  than  it  can 
pull  comfortably,  and  it  is  more  of  a  companion  to  men  than 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Brunhild  in  Watiture 

From  a  photograph  by  Falk,  New  York,  taken  in  1886 


America,  1885,  1886  35* 

a  dog  is  with  us.  Whoever  has  often  ridden  in  a  car  on  Broad- 
way, where  a  hundred  thousand  trucks  have  to  make  their 
way  amongst  thousands  of  cars,  and  has  seen  how  they  all 
extricate  themselves  without  abuse,  without  a  policeman, 
must  agree  with  the  Americans  when  they  say  what  I  have 
heard  so  often,  "  Horses  are  more  clever  than  human  beings. " 
For  years  we  observed  how  horses,  that  were  simply  taken 
out  of  the  traces  on  Broadway,  would  go  alone  to  their 
stables  through  the  street,  and  how  loaded  drays,  unguided 
by  any  driver,  were  taken  by  the  horse  wherever  it  was 
accustomed  to  go  with  the  contents.  A  horse  belonging  to 
a  milk- wagon  used  to  give  me  "his  paw, "  whenever  I  asked 
him  for  it.  Loaded  carts  were  often  steered  by  a  gentle 
word  spoken  from  the  sidewalk,  but  I  have  never  seen  a  horse 
beaten.  All  this  was  accomplished  by  Dr.  Bergh,  the  famous 
protector  of  animals,  who  was  given  a  free  hand  by  the  police, 
and  who  had  the  right,  if  he  saw  horses  that  were  badly 
harnessed,  to  take  them  from  before  any  waggon  or  carriage 
in  the  middle  of  the  street.  The  man  and  his  memory 
should  be  forever  blessed  for  this.  Here  one  individual, 
quite  by  himself,  succeeded  in  doing  what  a  crowd  of  chari- 
table and  intellectually  notable  persons  in  Berlin  have 
not  yet  accomplished.  One  often  hears  Americans  enquiring 
over  there  how  it  is  possible  that  such  brutality  to  animals 
as  is  seen  is  still  tolerated  in  a  moral  community.  Well,  I 
might  tell  something  about  it! 

As  we  rushed  through  them,  most  of  the  cities  seemed  to 
have  little  to  distinguish  one  from  another.  The  environs 
of  each  of  these  small  towns  were  very  attractive  to  me,  and 
I  always  took  the  time  to  visit  them.  There  were  many 
points  of  contact,  for  one  met  German  friends  all  over.  In 
Boston,  the  most  beautiful  and  intellectually  noted  city, 
most  resembling  European  towns,  we  met  Conductor  Wil- 
helm  Gericke,  of  the  Vienna  Court  Opera,  who  led  the  great 
Symphony  Concerts  that  were  the  gift  of  Mr.  Higginson,  a 
very  rich  and  earnest  man,  to  the  Bostonians.  He  had 


352  My  Path  Through  Life 

financed  and  artistically  promoted  them  for  a  decade,  and, 
later  on,  they  had  been  directed  by  Arthur  Nikisch  and  Dr. 
Carl  Muck,  while  to-day  they  are  in  their  fullest  development 
on  a  sound  business  basis,  and  constitute  a  source  of  intel- 
lectual elevation.  We  enjoyed  many  delightful  evenings  in 
those  days,  making  music  together,  and  many  wonderful 
memories  sprang  from  this  and  other  artistic  organisations 
(the  finest  orchestras  were  that  of  Boston  led  by  Gericke 
and  those  of  New  York  led  by  Thomas  and  Seidl),  for  which 
I  am  grateful  to  America  and,  on  the  other  hand,  if  I  may 
say  it,  for  which  America  should  thank  us. 

In  Rochester  and  New  York  we  met  again  two  of  my 
mother's  married  pupils ;  in  St.  Louis,  a  whole  family  of  our 
Kiinzle  relatives;  at  Milwaukee,  the  former  court  actress, 
Mathilde  Kuhle,  who  was  now  the  wife  of  the  Conductor 
Catenhusen,  and  who,  during  the  Music  Festival  of  July, 
1886,  in  which  Marianne  Brandt,  Herr  von  Witt,  and  Staudigl 
also  sang,  put  her  house  entirely  at  our  service  as  her  guests. 
After  my  winter  concert  in  that  city,  a  little  old  gentleman 
came  up  to  me  and  said,  in  the  words  of  Mendelssohn's 
Spring  Song,  with  which  I  had  just  closed,  "I  am  waked  by 
a  sweet  dream  of  bygone  days, "  adding,  "  I  often  heard  your 
mother  and  knew  you  as  her  daughter  from  your  voice!" 

The  heart  of  the  business  districts  in  the  cities  is  always 
the  same  in  character,  and  only  interesting  for  those  who 
have  undertaken  to  see,  just  once,  the  life  and  transactions 
there,  and  that  is  enough  for  eternity.  Where  the  coal  and 
iron  industries  play  the  leading  part,  as  in  Pittsburg  and 
Cincinnati,  or  in  Chicago,  where  innumerable  railroads  have 
their  terminals  and  the  factories  never  stop,  the  cities  are 
black,  saturated  with  coal  dust,  neither  the  sky  nor  the  stars 
can  be  seen,  and  even  the  lake,  on  which  our  hotels  fronted 
in  Chicago,  was  often  hidden  from  us  for  weeks  at  a  stretch 
during  our  long  spring  engagements. 

But  the  cottage  colonies  outside  the  city,  the  miles  of 
parks,  the  country  houses  built  in  the  old  English  fashion,  or 


America,  1885,  1886  353 

the  new  villas  in  the  Queen  Anne  style,  surrounded  by 
groups  of  trees,  parks,  and  lawns  that  are  not  separated  from 
the  street  or  the  neighbouring  property  by  any  fences, 
because  there  the  rights  of  ownership  are  mutually  re- 
spected, all  this  is  charming  and  attractive,  and  atones  for 
the  mud,  soot,  and  dust.  The  impenetrable  wall  of  fog 
seems  as  though  cut  through  by  a  sword,  when  one  gets  a 
mile  outside  of  Chicago  and  the  other  "coal  mines, "  and  the 
sun,  whose  existence  one  had  begun  to  doubt,  again  smiles 
from  a  blue  sky,  and,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  one  feels  himself  a 
human  being  once  more. 

When  I  was  at  Pittsburg,  in  the  nineties,  with  the  opera 
company,  and  sang  Brunhilde  in  the  Gotterdammerung,  I  was 
conducted  through  a  large  hall.  My  dressing  and  make- 
up were  almost  completed,  when  it  seemed  to  me,  suddenly, 
as  though  a  grey  veil  were  before  my  eyes.  As  I  looked 
about  me,  I  found  the  whole  room  and  the  hall,  also,  filled 
with  a  dark-grey,  suffocating  vapour,  and  saw  that  my  face, 
arms,  hair,  and  white  costume  were  covered  with  black  soot. 
I  ran  on  the  stage,  the  doors  and  windows  were  thrown  open, 
and  I  sent  word  to  Damrosch  that  he  must  come  instantly. 
The  heating  apparatus  under  my  dressing-room  had  been 
fed  with  damp  coal  dust,  and  all  the  coal  gas  and  soot  had 
come  through  the  floor.  I  coughed,  spat,  blew  my  nose,  wept 
coal-black  tears,  and  was  inky  from  top  to  toe.  Now  I 
had  to  be  washed  and  changed  throughout,  if  I  could  sing 
at  all  after  such  excitement,  and  the  opera  proceeded  after  a 
delay  of  an  hour.  I  shall  only  state  further  that,  after  six 
baths  with  brushes,  soap,  and  every  kind  of  cosmetic,  my 
sister  said  to  me,  "Lilli,  you  are  still  black!" 

Even  in  those  days,  a  high  degree  of  luxury  had  been 
reached  that  was  not  yet  known  in  German  lands;  it  was 
particularly  alarming  to  me  who  had  brought  so  few  wants 
into  the  world  with  me,  and  the  "bad  example"  was  always 
obtruding  itself  before  my  eyes.  We  found  some  German 


354  My  Path  Through  Life 

parvenus  with  establishments  that  were  tasteless  and  osten- 
tatious, and  who  constantly  played  a  prominent  part  in 
America's  business  life,  so  that  all  the  more  tasteful  and 
elegant  seemed,  by  contrast,  those  that  belonged  to  the 
aristocratic  families  of  Dutch  origin.  There  were  the 
Cornelius  Roosevelts,  for  instance,  Mensing's  brother  and 
sister-in-law,  who  despite  their  wealth,  had  preserved  their 
fine  sensibilities  and  lofty  beneficent  repose  in  an  almost 
childlike  degree,  and  who  manifested  these  qualities  to 
their  friends. 

Just  to  give  a  slight  sketch  of  the  wealth  and  good  taste, 
permit  me  to  describe  more  closely  the  interior  of  some  of  the 
houses  where  I  was  intimate.  Many  of  them  were  half 
museums,  and  yet  practically  and  habitably  arranged. 
Alma  Tadema,  for  instance,  had  drawn  the  design  for  all 
the  furniture  in  Mr.  Marquand's  music  room,  besides  paint- 
ing several  fine  pictures  for  it,  while  Meissonier's  master  hand 
had  decorated  the  piano  case  of  a  costly  Steinway  grand 
with  Apollo  and  the  Muses.  A  marble  Sappho  occupied 
a  niche  by  the  window,  and  the  figure  was  visible  through  a 
frame  of  delicate  green  vines.  This  room,  alone,  represented 
a  fortune,  and  was  an  artistic  sanctuary. 

Then  there  was  H.  O.  Havemeyer,  who  had  assembled 
art  treasures  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  that  it  would  take 
forever  to  describe.  When  I  was  conducted  into  the  library 
on  my  first  visit,  I  found  myself  alone  for  a  few  minutes  in 
the  large,  square,  light  room  which  had  book-shelves  running 
all  round  the  walls,  broken  only  by  a  great  fireplace.  A 
large,  plain  table  stood  in  the  centre,  and  there  were  leather 
arm-chairs  and  other  chairs  against  which  string  instruments 
leaned,  for  Mr.  Havemeyer  had  much  chamber  music.  I 
saw  all  this  in  an  instant,  but  soon  forgot  everything  else  as 
my  glance  fell  upon  four  genuine  Rembrandts  that  were 
hanging  above  the  book-shelves,  and  I  cried  aloud  with 
pleasure  at  the  sight.  Frightened,  I  looked  about  me,  and 
perceived  the  amiable  wife  of  the  fortunate  owner,  who, 


America,  1885,  1886  355 

beaming  with  satisfaction,  extended  her  hands.  This  lady 
was  also  especially  noteworthy,  because  she  brought  up  her 
children  most  simply  in  the  midst  of  all  her  wealth.  She 
trained  them  to  keep  their  rooms  clean,  to  make  their  beds, 
and  had  them  learn,  not  only  social  accomplishments,  but 
all  necessary  and  practical  knowledge.  If  only  every  one 
would  be  so  sensible,  instead  of  bringing  up  discontented 
do-nothings,  spendthrifts,  or  still  worse! 

At  the  home  of  Theodore  Havemeyer,  the  brother  of  the 
one  just  named,  who,  I  think,  formed  the  sugar  trust,  a 
business  combination  that  yielded  fifty-six  million  dollars 
the  first  year,  everything  was  much  more  splendid  still. 
Superb  Gobelins  covered  the  walls  of  the  large  and  very 
handsome  house;  on  special  occasions,  meals  were  served 
there  on  gold  plate,  and  wine  was  drunk  costing  sixty  dollars 
a  bottle.  The  whole  house  was  then  decorated  from  top  to 
bottom  with  fresh  orchids  at  a  cost  of  thousands,  but  the 
house  and  its  elegant  and  affable  owners  were  perfectly  in 
harmony.  Mrs.  Theodore  Havemeyer  was  an  Austrian, 
nee  von  Lossell,  as  beautiful  as  she  was  elegant ;  she  had  many 
children,  and,  in  later  years,  suffered  much  trouble  on  their 
account.  At  the  time  when  I  became  acquainted  with  her, 
she  was  still  happy  in  the  house  that  was  full  of  warm  life 
and  that  was  beautified  for  her  by  children  and  grand- 
children. 

We  felt  ourselves  most  at  home  in  the  charming  Sachs 
family,  to  which  I  had  many  introductions,  and  where  all 
artists  met.  We  were  entirely  at  our  ease  there,  and  in 
another  family,  also,  where  one  might  wear,  mentally,  a  robe 
de  chambre  sometimes,  a  need  that  only  those  can  understand 
who  know  a  little  of  the  much-abused  memory  of  the  stage 
artist,  that,  stretched  on  a  mental  rack  for  hours,  days  and 
nights,  never  obtains  rest  during  a  lifetime,  to  say  nothing 
of  complete  repose. 

I  formed  life-long  friendships  in  America,  that  were 
founded  on  real  congeniality  and  gratitude.  I  should  re- 


356  My  Path  Through  Life 

quire  many  words  to  describe  the  kindness  and  goodness  that 
were  shown  me  from  many  sides,  and  how  generally  I  was 
spoiled.  Those  who  grew  close  to  my  heart,  those  dear 
people,  they  must  all  feel  how  much  I  love  them,  that  I  can 
never  forget  them,  but  shall  always  be  unfalteringly  loyal, 
whether  far  or  near,  and  that  I  never  can  thank  them  suffi- 
ciently for  the  perfect  understanding  that  was  given  me 
almost  without  exception.  It  was  wonderful;  they  did  not 
speak  German  and  yet  they  understood  me;  I  expressed  to 
them  my  feeling  in  my  art,  and  they  felt  with  me.  The 
highest  satisfaction  lifted  me  up  to  heaven,  above  all  earthly 
interests,  when  I  had  attained  the  conviction  that  I  had 
brought  a  work  of  our  greatest  Master  near  to  them,  which 
was  not  difficult  for  me  to  accomplish,  in  union  with  so  many 
excellent  colleagues.  Their  apprehension  of  the  conception 
of  a  work,  or  of  a  character  in  it,  was  often  expressed  with 
extraordinary  fineness,  and  I  would  like  to  give  a  little  illus- 
tration of  it  here.  A  lady  from  the  country,  who  cultivated 
roses  on  a  large  scale,  and  who  possessed  a  remarkable  sen- 
sitiveness for  the  subtleties  of  Nature,  said  to  me  after  the 
first  performance  of  the  Gotterddmmerung,  "Lilli,  I  was  so 
glad  that  you  did  not  touch  Siegfried  on  the  bier ! "  Amazed 
I  told  her  what  was  self-evident,  that  "I  could  not  do  it." 
"Well,"  she  said,  "I  felt  that  way  about  it  and  had  to  tell 
you  so. " 

It  often  happened,  when  I  sang  Lieder  in  the  Far  West 
and  feared  that  this  or  that  one  had  not  been  understood, 
that  I  had  to  repeat  it,  or  I  received  special  thanks,  modestly 
expressed,  for  that  very  number.  From  the  advances  of  such 
profound  understanding,  I  felt  that  my  art  was  exalted  to  a 
mission  which  it  made  me  happy  to  fulfil,  while  it  permitted 
my  powers  and  my  wings  to  develop,  and  enabled  me  to 
perfect  it. 

It  would  not  be  right  to  bring  a  charge  of  vanity  against 
me  from  these  words,  for  I  have  never  been  vain,  either  on  the 
score  of  my  talent  or  of  my  personality — perhaps  I  have  not 


America,  1885,  1886  357 

been  sufficiently  so.  Art  was  my  all,  and  only  the  effort  to 
approach  as  near  as  possible  to  the  ideal  enjoined  me  to 
serve  it.  I  did  not  desire  to  elevate  myself  on  a  pedestal, 
but,  with  my  weak  powers,  I  attempted  to  wrest  an  ideal 
side  from  every  role  that  was  entrusted  to  me,  and  there  was 
never  one  so  bad  that  I  did  not  try  to  mould  the  figure  so 
that  it  was  human,  and,  at  the  same  time,  artistic.  What 
panted  for  release  in  me,  I  delineated  in  all  the  representa- 
tions of  my  artistic  career,  that  may  be  called  my  life  work 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end.  It  was  a  noble  task,  for  the 
sake  of  which  many  an  artist  has  abandoned  a  life  of  security, 
and  chosen  hunger  when  he,  in  quest  of  his  goal,  had  started 
unpractically  on  a  false  road. 

After  the  conclusion  of  the  thirty  Steinway  concerts  came 
six  music  festivals,  with  fully  twenty-three  concerts,  which, 
of  course,  kept  me  in  America  until  about  July  25th,  and 
obliged  me  to  suppress  my  yearning  for  home.  Among  all 
the  American  music  festivals,  the  admirable  festivals  in 
Cincinnati,  that  were  repeated  every  two  years  under 
Theodore  Thomas's  leadership,  took  the  first  place.  The 
chorus  of  1000  persons,  the  orchestra  consisting  of  the  best 
players  of  the  American  Symphony  orchestra,  the  noble  and 
beautiful  hall,  a  select  audience,  the  entire  New  York  and 
Boston  press,  the  glorious  programme,  ascending  from  Bach 
to  Wagner,  made  a  whole  that  was  very  remarkable  and  mem- 
orable. By  contrast  a  less  admirable  festival  at  Toronto, 
Canada,  appeared  extremely  ludicrous,  where  an  elderly 
local  conductor  knew  so  little  about  the  Mozart  scores  that 
I  called  him,  in  English,  in  the  presence  of  the  committee 
a  veritable  "ass,"  after  my  aria  from  the  Entfiihrung,  and  he 
did  not  take  umbrage  but  tried  to  excuse  himself.  I  know 
that  it  was  not  ladylike  of  me,  but  I  felt  that  I  must  say  it. 

I  may  permit  myself  to  insert  here  an  experience,  in  the 
year  1888,  that  was  far  worse.  Paul  Kalisch  (my  husband) 
and  I,  after  an  uplifting  Cincinnati  Festival,  another  in. 


358  My  Path  Through  Life 

Buffalo,  and  a  wonderful  sojourn  of  a  week  at  Niagara  Falls, 
travelled  to  St.  Louis  in  June  and  during  tropical  heat,  arriv- 
ing dead  tired  at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  and,  as  the  rehearsals 
for  the  festival  were  to  begin  the  next  morning,  we  started  to 
get  to  bed  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Introduction:  We  had  scarcely,  however,  got  into  the 
steaming  beds  than  a  negro  knocked  at  the  door  with  his 
five  fingers — I  say  that  advisedly,  because  the  negro  servants 
made  a  point  of  placing  the  palms  of  their  hands  against  the 
door,  and  then  of  beating  a  tattoo  with  their  five  fingers  in 
succession.  I  was  informed,  in  reply  to  my  question,  that 
the  Festival  Committee  awaited  me  downstairs.  I  begged 
to  be  excused,  on  the  plea  that  I  was  exhausted  and  had  gone 
to  bed.  After  twenty  minutes  there  came  another  tattoo, 
but  I  kept  silent.  The  drummer  with  his  fingers  did  not 
stop,  however,  and  I  was  finally  compelled  to  get  up.  This 
time  it  was  the  ladies,  who  wished  to  present  me  with  flowers 
and  gifts.  Fresh  excuses  on  my  side,  and  pressing  requests 
for  quiet.  At  last  I  fell  asleep,  only  to  be  waked  by  the 
kettledrum-like  raps  and  the  ten  fingers.  I  trembled  all 
over,  and  this  time  it  was  the  flowers  and  the  gifts,  without 
the  ladies,  which  I  was  forced  to  accept  with  a  fearful  (un- 
spoken) curse,  as  the  negro  was  not  inclined  to  spare  me  their 
acceptance. 

I.  Concert:     Exposition,    ineffective    because    of    the 
wretched  conductor. 

II.  Concert:  Derailment.     The  "Siegfried"  duet,  sung 
by  Max  Alvary  and  me.     The  conductor  did  not  consider  a 
rehearsal  necessary  as  he  knew  it  all  by  heart.    We  singers 
succeeded  that  night  in  steering  around  several  rocks,  but 
finally  we  could  no  longer  save  ourselves  from  shipwreck. 
The  conductor  took  the  great  fugue  at  the  end  of  the  duet  in 
four-quarter  time,  instead  of  alia  breve,  and,  of  course,  exactly 
twice  as  slow  as  it  was  written.   The  New  York  orchestra  fol- 
lowed the  singers,  but  the  others  followed  the  baton,  and,  at 
last,  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  find  a  way  through  the  grand 


America,  1885,  1886  359 

muddle  or  to  sing  any  farther,  so  I  gave  it  up  altogether,  and 
took  my  seat  resignedly.  Alvary  tacked  about  with  a  con- 
tempt of  death,  although  with  no  hope  of  success,  and  im- 
plored me  to  go  on  singing,  as  soon  as  he  should  be  compelled 
to  stop.  I  shook  my  head  in  impotent  rage.  Finally,  a 
member  of  the  orchestra  had  pity  on  Wagner,  and  began  to 
conduct,  the  orchestra  pulled  itself  together,  and  we  were 
able  to  join  in  and  to  conclude  the  duet.  There  was  great 
enthusiasm  in  the  audience  and  terrible  excitement  up  above. 
The  audience,  moreover,  did  not  appear  to  have  noticed  the 
trouble  at  all,  or  else  it  did  not  observe  it  because  it  thought 
that  it  was  intended  to  sound  that  way.  I  felt  that  I  should 
never  live  down  the  shame  of  it. 

III.  Concert:     The   custom    of   the   country.     At    the 
matinee  the  next  day,  which  was  Sunday,  Paul  Kalisch  sang 
Eleazar's  great  aria  from  the  Judin.     A  young  negress,  with 
a  babe  in  arms,  was  sitting  in  front  of  him  in  the  first  row. 
The  child  must  have  been  frightened  during  the  recitative, 
for  it  began  to  scream,  and  kept  it  up  through  the  whole  of 
the  splendid  prelude  to  the  aria,  "Recha,  when  God  gave 
you  to  me  as  daughter. "     My  husband  was  distracted,  and 
at  the  words,  "And  trembling,  this  hand  offered  nourish- 
ment to  the  child,"  he  signed  to  her  to  give  the  infant  a 
drink.     She  did  not  understand,  however,  until  some  one 
from  behind  whispered  it  to  her  in  English,  and  then  she 
calmly  unbuttoned  her  dress  and  put  her  tiny  black  offspring 
to  her  breast,  which  drew  in  with  the  milk  a  pious  meditative- 
ness,  and  found  peace,  together  with  the  despairing  Eleazar. 

IV.  Concert:     Catastrophe.     Although  I  sat  in  the  ar- 
tists' room,  fully  dressed,  I  positively  refused  to  sing  again 
under  this  conductor,  and  so  Madame  Emma  Juch  sang,  in 
my  place,  both  the  "Fidelio"  quartet  and  the  "Venus" 
scene,  in  its  original  form.    I  wished  to  leave  at  once,  but  I 
could  not  go  until  the  end  of  the  concert,  when  I  received 
my  honorarium.     It  was  the  last  time  I  ever  consented  to 
sing  with  a  conductor  whom  I  did  not  know. 


360  My  Path  Through  Life 

After  this  digression  I  must  go  back  to  Indianapolis,  a 
city  that  I  liked  for  its  peacefulness,  where  I  was  buried  under 
flowers,  and  where  we  became  somewhat  acquainted  with 
America's  early  golden  days  by  living  in  an  old-fashioned 
hotel.  But  now  a  well-earned  rest  at  Kaltenbach's  small 
German  hotel,  that  was  like  home,  beckoned  us  to  Niagara 
Falls.  For  five  weeks  we  lingered  by  the  current  of  the 
upper  river,  that  seemed  to  me  more  impressive  than  the 
Falls  themselves,  and  we  wandered  about  the  Cedar  Islands 
through  which  the  water  rushes,  and  where  humming-birds, 
like  wild  butterflies,  buzzed  around  our  heads.  Or  else  we 
would  stand  on  the  Canadian  side  above  the  whirlpool,  and 
watch  the  fall  of  the  water,  or  we  would  go  by  the  little 
steamer,  the  M aid  of  the  Mist  (which  I  called  the  Mistmadchen) , 
into  the  rushing,  whirling  tumult  of  waters,  which  drew  the 
little  vessel,  by  tremendous  suction,  back  into  the  eddy,  long 
before  it  had  touched  it.  On  either  side  of  the  high  shores 
we  could  follow  for  hours,  beside  the  heavenly  blue  ribbon  of 
the  river,  to  Lake  Erie,  or  we  could  sit  in  our  balcony  under 
ancient  elm  trees,  where  the  Bulow  orioles  wove  their  hang- 
ing nests,  and  their  flute-like  notes  rang  out  against  the 
distant  thunder  of  the  roaring  Falls.  It  seemed  homelike  to 
us  at  Kaltenbach's,  also,  because  near  us  lived  Dr.  Salomon, 
a  former  Governor  of  Minnesota,  a  handsome,  elderly  man, 
who  reminded  me  strongly  of  my  father,  and  whose  wife,  an 
admirer  and  acquaintance  of  Theodor  Wachtel,  never  saw 
me  without  wishing  to  talk  about  him.  Both  of  these  dear 
people  lived  out  their  lives  at  Frankfort,  where  I  often  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  them  again.  The  height  of  Niagara 
Falls  is  disappointing  at  the  first  sight  of  them,  but  the 
fifteen  million  cubic  metres  of  water  that  rushes  every  minute 
over  the  flat  rocks  are  first  fully  realised,  like  the  current  of 
the  upper  river,  after  one  has  left  there,  and  can  enjoy  their 
beauty  and  grandeur  in  memory. 

Our  stay  at  Milwaukee,  a  thoroughly  German  city  on 
Lake  Michigan,  was  a  pleasant  continuation  of  our  coun- 


America,   1885,   1886  361 

try  life  at  Niagara,  and  there  the  Catenhusens,  our  amiable 
hosts,  turned  work  into  a  holiday  for  me  by  their  delightful 
domesticity.  The  four  concerts  of  the  festival  were  con- 
ducted by  Catenhusen,  a  thorough  expert,  to  complete 
success  through  his  wise  foresight.  The  soloists  were 
requested,  at  the  final  one,  to  join  in  singing  the  American 
national  hymn,  the  Star-Spangled  Banner,  at  the  end.  None 
of  us  knew  it,  and  I  had  never  heard  it,  but  he  thought 
we  should  at  least  be  present,  even  if  we  did  not  sing  it; 
however,  as  the  notes  had  been  handed  to  us,  we  joined 
in  bravely.  All  of  a  sudden  the  word  solo  stared  me  in 
the  face,  the  chorus  stopped  singing,  and  before  I  had  re- 
covered from  the  first  fright,  and  had  been  able  to  attack  it, 
I  heard  Marianne  Brandt  beside  me,  brave  as  death,  hum- 
ming the  second  part  of  this  solo,  which  made  the  situation 
appear  so  ridiculous  to  me  that  I  could  not  control  my 
laughter.  Marianne  Brandt  caught  the  contagion  and  could 
not  remain  serious,  so  we  both  giggled  right  through  to  the 
end  of  the  solo-duet.  This  lasted  only  a  few  seconds,  when 
we  and  the  Star  Spangled  Banner  were  finally  saved  from 
further  disaster  by  the  chorus  coming  in,  and  the  beautiful 
festival  was  concluded  by  the  triumphant  rejoicings  of  the 
patriotically  electrified  audience,  and  then  a  banquet  followed. 
The  German  artists,  however,  celebrated  a  feast  of  union  the 
next  day,  from  eleven  to  five  o'clock,  at  the  home  of  our 
kind  hosts,  with  German  heartiness  and  German  toasts  to 
beautiful  America  and  the  dear  beautiful  German  Fatherland, 
whither  we  were  now  strongly  drawn  after  all  our  experiences. 
The  Catenhusens,  also,  had  long  yearned  to  go  back,  and  a 
kind  destiny  led  them  thither  finally,  although  not  until 
much  later. 


America 

1886-1887 

THE  anchor  was  weighed,  and  forth  we  went  on  the  Eider , 
through  the  glorious  harbour,  and  across  the  wide 
ocean  to  the  beloved  land  of  our  birth.  During  the  whole 
nine  months  of  my  stay  in  America  the  rocking  motion  of 
the  ship  had  scarcely  left  me  for  a  day,  but  it  now  was  a 
help,  for  it  prevented  my  suffering  on  this  new  journey.  It  is, 
moreover,  remarkable  that  all  the  return  trips  from  Amer- 
ica to  Europe  were  better  and  easier  to  endure  than  those  in 
the  other  direction.  The  weather  was  divine,  the  ocean 
like  a  mirror,  and  in  care-free  happiness  the  voyage  passed 
only  too  quickly.  We  arrived  at  Bremen  in  good  health, 
were  made  happy  by  the  greetings  of  our  dear  ones,  and  soon 
reached  Berlin.  We  were  unpleasantly  struck,  on  this  short 
stretch  of  railway,  by  the  contrast  between  the  American 
and  German  management  of  traffic  through  the  petty 
formalities  that  were  undergone  from  the  landing  all  the 
way  to  Berlin,  and  in  comparison  to  which  the  whole  ocean 
voyage  had  been  nothing. 

Whence  comes  the  peculiar  sense  of  freedom  that  is  at 
once  felt  by  every  one  in  America?  I  was  not  a  prisoner  in 
Berlin.  There  is  a  moral  element  in  the  natural  manner  of 
life  of  the  American  people,  even  the  poorest  feels  himself  a 
gentleman,  desires  to  be  treated  as  such,  and  thereby  deems 
it  worth  his  while  to  treat  others  so.  The  people  do  not 
shriek  and  rage  even  when  the  most  extraordinary  advertis- 

362 


America,   1886-1887  363 

ing  processions  pass  along  the  streets.  No  policeman  need 
interfere,  a  line  forms  of  itself  without  coercion.  Each  man 
trains  himself.  It  is  compulsion  that  excites  the  emotions 
and  that  calls  forth  defiance.  Every  woman  is  respected 
by  every  man ;  they  are  ladies  in  the  best  sense,  and  conduct 
themselves  so.  The  most  elegant  man  does  not  remain 
sitting  in  a  car  if  a  woman  is  standing;  no  matter  how  poor 
she  may  be  she  is  always  treated  according  to  what  is 
right.  No  gentleman  smokes  nor  keeps  his  hat  on,  even  in 
a  dra'ughty  lift,  if  a  lady  is  present.  The  most  elegant  lady, 
moreover,  may  ask  a  workman,  or  even  a  beggar,  to  take 
her  home  or  to  a  carriage  in  case  of  storm  or  ice, 
which  often  conies  suddenly.  I  myself  was  frequently  in 
such  embarrassment,  and  I  always  met  with  respect  and 
courtesy. 

It  was  charming  to  me  that  even  little  boys  came  forward 
as  protectors  of  the  weaker  sex  as  though  the  impulse  to  do  so 
were  born  in  them.  To  behave  like  gentlemen  is  their  patent 
of  nobility.  Not  much  is  known  of  that  in  Europe,  where 
boys  and  men,  whether  young  or  old  and  of  every  rank,  are 
actively  engaged  in  behaving  as  rudely  as  possible  towards 
ladies,  and  one  must  confess,  unfortunately,  that  many 
women  are  culpable  in  this  matter.  The  smallest  children 
in  America  are  educated  to  independence;  they  become 
acquainted  with  danger,  and  do  not  fear  because  they  are 
thrown  on  themselves  from  the  earliest  age  and  must  dis- 
cover how  to  get  on  in  practical  life.  I  often  drove  through 
districts  in  the  cities  where  little  children,  six  or  seven  years 
old,  seated  themselves  in  front  on  the  safety  fender  of  the 
locomotive  to  get  a  ride  farther.  I  saw  also  two-  to  three- 
year-old  babies  running  alone  on  the  sidewalks  in  the  large 
cities,  where  open  cellar  and  coal  slides  are  an  ever-present 
menace  to  the  lives  of  old  and  young,  and  to  which  poor 
old  Rosa  Fischer  later  fell  a  sacrifice.  Every  adult  is  the 
natural  protector  of  other  weaker  creatures,  whether  man  or 
beast.  The  parents,  therefore,  can  be  without  anxiety  about 


364  My  Path  Through  Life 

their  children,  as  far  as  the  possibility  of  protection  enters  in- 
to consideration,  and  how  beneficial  such  a  consciousness  is 
to  a  far-thinking,  well-disposed  man,  I  do  not  need  to  tell  the 
friendly  reader.  Perhaps,  it  is  also  work  which  educates  the 
people  of  a  state,  that  founds  and  preserves  activity  and  not 
class  spirit,  over  there,  where  the  street-sweeper  and  the 
bootblack  in  the  most  miserable  rags  call  themselves  gentle- 
men, and  have  a  right  to  carry  themselves  as  such.  May 
they  guard  that!  Why  is  one  ashamed  to  work  in  my 
country;  why  does  my  Fatherland  give  no  chance,  least  of 
all  to  an  officer,  to  atone  for  a  fault  that  has  been  committed? 
Must  they  be  driven  to  suicide  instead  of  righting  the  wrong? 

The  immense  influx  of  bad  elements  that  have  been 
expelled  by  other  nationalities  will  not  fail  to  break  many 
stones  out  of  the  crown  of  American  civilisation,  and,  per- 
haps, it  is  no  longer  quite  so  ideal  over  there  to-day  as  I  once 
knew  it  and  learned  to  love  it.  But  I  hope  that  it  will  always 
be  more  wholesome  in  its  human  development  than  ancient 
Europe. 

Every  tenth  house  is  a  church  or  chapel,  and  there  are 
hundreds  of  sects  with  different  creeds.  No  one  restrains 
them,  and  I  have  never  heard  that  they  have  to  fight  for  their 
right,  as  human  beings,  to  believe  what  they  consider 
necessary.  The  Americans  have  freedom  in  this  and  many 
other  things,  upon  which  I  cannot  dilate  here  because  it 
would  carry  me  too  far.  The  upper  ten  thousand  may  be 
free  everywhere,  even  in  Europe,  but  many  hundreds  of 
thousands  drag  a  life-long  lie  about  with  them,  out  of  regard 
to  their  circumstances,  prosperity,  children,  and  relatives, 
that  is  attached  to  them  like  chains.  They  neither  can  nor 
dare  free  themselves  from  it,  and  fasten  the  slave  fetters 
upon  their  children  even  in  the  cradle,  that  make  bondmen 
of  them,  even  as  their  fathers  were. 

My  first  thought  was  to  see  Hulsen,  talk  things  over  with 
him,  and  blot  out  my  guilt,  I  perceived  with  true  sympathy 


America,   1886-1887  365 

how  wretched  he  was,  and  how  he  had  changed.  I  knew 
positively  that  he  was  sincerely  glad  to  see  me  again,  but 
also  that  he  retained  small  interest  for  his  work,  which,  for 
a  long  time  past,  had  been  lightened  for  him  by  others  or 
even  taken  off  him  entirely.  I  had  much  to  tell  him,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  there  was  no  change  in  our  relationship. 
In  closing,  I  said  to  him  that  I  proposed  to  deposit  my 
required  penalty  of  13,500  marks  only  on  condition  of  having 
complete  liberty.  Hiilsen  answered  me  in  these  exact  words, 
"You  may  pay  in  peace  of  mind,  dear  Lilli,  you  will  be 
entirely  free.  And  as  for  what  stands  in  the  agreement,  it 
does  not  concern  us  and  need  not  be  considered.  But,  in 
case  you  are  not  released,  I  will  return  the  money  to  you. " 
"No,  no, "  I  said,  "that  I  cannot  believe,  for  what  has  been 
swallowed  up  by  the  royal  treasury  it  never  gives  back — 
everybody  knows  that!"  Hulsen  laughed  heartily  and  re- 
iterated that,  after  the  payment  of  the  conventional  penalty, 
I  should  certainly  be  entirely  at  liberty.  So  I  proceeded  in 
good  faith,  for  I  had  never  had  any  reason  to  doubt  Hulsen's 
word,  and  I  paid  to  the  cashier  at  the  Royal  Opera  House 
the  whole  amount,  the  receipts  of  an  entire  year,  for  which  in 
the  last  twelvemonth,  for  instance,  I  had  sung  eighty-one 
times. 

To  prevent  further  loss  to  the  stage  by  the  breaking  of 
contracts,  intendants  and  directors  had  assembled  in  the 
spring,  to  draw  up  a  cartel  that  would  boycott  anyone  who 
had  violated  his  contract.  Hulsen  had  participated  in  it  as 
chairman,  and,  nevertheless,  he  assured  me  that  I  should  be 
entirely  free.  I  am  certain  that  he  would  have  kept  this 
promise  had  he  remained  alive.  But  he  died  not  long  after, 
and  the  sin  of  omission  that  Hulsen  did  not  give  it  to  me  in 
writing  and  that  I  did  not  ask  for  it,  soon,  unfortunately, 
became  apparent. 

When  I  went  to  visit  my  sister  at  Vienna,  and  Jahn,  who 
had  likewise  entered  into  the  agreement,  saw  me,  he  invited 
me  at  once  to  take  a  star  engagement  and  I  accepted  because 


366  My  Path  Through  Life 

of  his  importunities,  although  I  was  not  there  for  that  pur- 
pose. But,  after  a  few  days,  he  told  me  that,  on  account  of 
enquiries,  he  could  not  permit  me  to  sing,  although  he  hoped 
to  carry  it  through,  or,  in  the  opposite  event,  he  intended  to 
withdraw  from  the  agreement.  That,  of  course,  could  not 
be  done  and  my  engagement  had  to  end.  As  soon  as  I  was 
back  in  Berlin  I  hurried  to  my  attorney,  and  explained  the 
matter  to  him  as  I  wished  to  go  to  law,  and  how  did  he  reply? 
That  the  case  would  not  be  taken  by  any  one,  and  that  I 
should  lose  the  suit  that  he  advised  against,  even  though 
I  could  swear  to  Hulsen's  words  about  the  promised  liberty. 
It  could  be  assumed  with  certainty  that  I  should  be  cut  down 
from  the  gallows  as  soon  as  my  services  were  ended,  and,  until 
then,  I  must  be  patient ;  the  period  of  irritation  would  pass, 
and  revolve  itself  finally  into  satisfaction.  I  understood 
clearly  that  the  cartel  which  had  been  called  into  existence 
because  of  me  would  not  be  rescinded  again  immediately,  on 
my  account,  although  I  had  built  with  confidence  upon 
Hulsen's  assurance  of  liberty.  So  I  had  to  rest  satisfied,  and 
wait  for  a  stronger  power  that  would  succeed  in  speaking 
the  word  of  release  that  no  judge  in  the  German  empire, 
according  to  my  attorney,  could  do. 

Severe  storms  beset  our  second  journey  to  New  York, 
whither  the  Eider  again  carried  us,  and  on  board  of  which 
this  time  was  Albert  Niemann,  who  had  been  caught  by 
cunning,  on  my  advice,  and  who  was  just  good  enough  for 
such  a  susceptible  public  as  that  of  New  York.  He  made  his 
first  appearance  as  Siegmund,  and  received  an  ovation  such 
as  Germany  had  scarcely  ever  given  him.  When  he  pro- 
claimed, like  a  prophet,  Wagner's  profoundest  work,  Tristan, 
to  America,  and  Marianne  Brandt  and  I  were  permitted  to 
share  in  the  revelation,  my  heart  swelled  with  pride.  In  the 
whole  world  there  was  nothing  that  could  set  free  greater 
emotions  in  me  than  these  Tristan  performances  in  New  York 
with  Niemann,  where  the  audience  sat  still  for  minutes,  silent 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Isolde  in  Tristan  und  Isolde 

From  a  photograph  by  Aime  Dupont,  New  York,  taken  in  1884 
(Copyright  by  Aim6  Dupont) 


America,   1886-1887  367 

and  motionless  in  their  places,  as  though  drunk  or  in  a  trans- 
port, without  being  conscious  that  the  opera  was  over,  in  spite 
of  all  the  enthusiasm  and  applause.  Seidl  was  in  sympathy 
with  us,  carried  his  orchestra  along  on  the  wings  of  worship 
of  his  Master,  and  made  every  instrument  proclaim  what  he 
had  inherited,  in  teaching  and  knowledge,  from  the  creator. 
Emil  Fischer  as  Marke,  Adolf  Robinson  as  Kurwenal,  Alvary 
as  the  steersman,  were  with  us,  united,  in  loving  compre- 
hension and  glowing  adoration,  to  do  homage  to  the  majesty 
of  the  Master.  Every  evening  of  Tristan  with  Niemann  was 
a  fresh  event  to  me. 

Although  Fidelio  belonged  to  me  alone,  like  all  the  dra- 
matic roles,  I  gave  up  the  first  production  of  it  to  Marianne 
Brandt,  my  colleague  of  many  years,  and  made  claim  only  to 
the  second  performance  of  it.  When  Brandt,  Niemann,  and 
I  as  Fides,  Johann,  and  Berta,  were  united  in  the  Prophet,  it 
seemed  to  us  as  though  we  were  in  Berlin  and  as  though  I 
had  never  parted  from  the  scene  of  my  work  of  many  years. 

On  the  2Oth  of  April,  I  found  myself  again  at  Copenhagen 
for  three  concerts,  at  which  King  Christian  and  Queen  Luise 
were  present,  and  they  invited  me  to  a  court  concert  on 
May  2d.  It  was  a  court  concert  enfamille,  one  might  say,  as, 
besides  the  amiable  Crown  Prince  and  Princess  (she  was  the 
daughter  of  the  ever-remembered  King  Karl  XV.,  of  Sweden, 
towards  whom  my  sympathy  went  forth  with  my  recollec- 
tions of  him),  Prince  Karl  and  his  wife,  Prince  George  of 
Greece,  the  King's  grandson,  who  were  all  introduced  to  me 
by  the  King,  the  only  strangers  present,  in  addition  to  myself, 
were  a  princely  Japanese  couple,  who  were  on  their  wedding 
journey.  The  Queen's  sky-blue  eyes  reminded  me  at  once 
of  the  hymn  of  praise,  which  a  diplomat  whom  I  knew  sang 
to  the  wonderful  eyes  of  her  daughter,  Dagmar,  the  Empress 
Maria  Paulowna  of  Russia.  She  was  exceptionally  affable, 
and  bore  herself  more  naturally  than  any  Queen  I  had  ever 
seen.  The  King,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  presented  me 


368  My  Path  Through  Life 

with  the  medal  for  Art  and  Science,  to  be  worn  on  the 
Danebrog  ribbon,  and  called  the  Queen  over  to  pin  it  on  me 
at  once,  which  she  did.  The  King  seemed  not  to  have  for- 
gotten his  loss  of  Schleswig-Holstein,  and  was  very  earnest 
on  this  point.  But  he  told  me  much  that  was  interesting 
about  the  life  of  his  daughter  Dagmar,  who  was  heroically 
brave  at  the  side  of  the  Czar,  and  knew  how  to  guard  his  life. 
She  went  everywhere  first  herself,  first  drank  from  every 
glass,  and  ate  from  every  plate  that  was  offered  to  the  Em- 
peror. She  lived,  in  perpetual  fear  for  the  life  of  her  husband, 
the  Emperor,  a  horrible  existence  that  it  was  wonderful  her 
love  and  courage  endured  so  long.  On  behalf  of  another 
daughter,  also,  they  had  suffered  much  anxiety,  but  she  had 
soon  recovered  from  her  illness.  The  Queen,  who  had  de- 
voted some  time  after  dinner  to  her  "very  intelligent "  guests, 
as  she  said  to  me,  went  up  to  the  King,  whom  she  requested 
to  excuse  her  awhile  from  her  duties  as  she  wished  to  be 
entertained  now  by  Fraulein  Lehmann.  She  made  her  own 
choice  of  songs  that  I  had  to  repeat  for  her,  and  I  took  my 
departure  late,  escorted  by  the  Crown  Prince,  from  this 
charming  circle,  with  the  promise  to  return  soon  again. 

As  things  turned  out,  Colonel  Mapleson  could  at  last  see 
the  fulfilment  of  his  long-cherished  wish  to  hear  me  in  dra- 
matic r61es.  When  he  learned  that  I  was  in  Europe,  he  in- 
vited me  to  London  for  a  special  engagement  at  the  end  of 
June,  to  which  I  agreed  on  the  promise  of  a  very  fine  season. 
Before  I  appeared  as  Fidelia,  Madame  Patti  was  announced 
in  Traviata,  but  the  Alfredo  had  declined  to  sing.  Mapleson 
turned  to  me  to  know  whether  Berlin  could  not  produce  an 
Alfredo,  and  I  could  recommend  Paul  Kalisch  with  a  clear 
conscience,  all  the  more  so  as  I  knew  that  he  had  already 
sung  the  role  with  Madame  Patti  during  his  Italian  career. 
He  arrived,  but  the  one  who  did  not  once  appear  at  a  rehear- 
sal was  Mme.  Patti,  so  it  had  to  go  without  being  rehearsed. 

On  the  evening  of  the  first  Fidelio  performance  it  was 


America,   1886-1887      .  369 

evident  that  my  Italian  Florestan  was  quite  impossible,  and, 
as  Paul  Kalisch  spoke  Italian,  he  was  asked  to  take  Florestan 
at  short  notice,  a  difficult  but  glorious  task,  which  he  dis- 
charged with  great  skill  and  industry.  And  it  was  after  the 
third  Fidelia  performance  that  we  became  betrothed;  we 
could  not  have  found  a  more  worthy  occasion. 

It  was  intended  that  Norma,  Donna  Anna,  and  other 
parts  should  follow,  but,  even  during  the  rehearsals,  the  old 
pecuniary  troubles  of  Mapleson  began,  and  members  daily 
deserted  the  company,  for  whom  others  had  to  be  substituted 
and  trained  in.  Although  Mapleson  implored  me  to  remain, 
I  finally  lost  patience ;  I  made  short  shrift  of  it  and  went  my 
way.  I  was  sorry  only  on  account  of  the  old  master,  Arditi, 
who  would  have  rejoiced  so  much  if  he  could  have  conducted 
Norma  once  more  with  me. 

Mapleson  must  have  counted  on  the  jubilee  of  Queen 
Victoria  for  his  "magnificent  season."  Fine  as  were  the 
procession  and  the  many  court  festivities,  the  show-loving 
public  manifested  almost  no  interest  in  the  opera,  because 
the  court  did  not  visit  it,  and  so  Colonel  Mapleson's  great 
hopes  failed  here  the  most. 

The  boycott  drove  me  now,  with  full  force,  on  Italian 
territory,  in  so  far  that  I  sang,  not  only  at  London,  but  also 
at  the  National  Opera  at  Budapest  where  German  was  not 
only  repudiated,  but  where  it  was  and  still  is  quite  impossible, 
and  I  acquitted  myself  of  eight  star  appearances  under 
Count  Keglevich,  the  Intendant,  and  Conductor  Erkel  in 
September  and  October.  Besides  Fidelia,  that  was  given 
there,  as  in  London,  with  recitatives,  we  performed,  also, 
Norma,  Lucrezia  Borgia,  and  Merlin,  at  which  Goldmark 
himself  appeared.  At  the  rehearsal  I  called  the  attention  of 
this  dear  friend  to  the  fact  that  I  had  permitted  myself  to 
make  some  insignificant  changes  of  tone,  and  I  begged  him, 
although  this  seemed  to  be  very  disagreeable  to  him,  to 
listen  to  them  first.  After  the  rehearsal,  however,  he  said  to 
me,  "In  future,  you  may  make  any  changes  you  like  in  my 


37°  My  Path  Through  Life 

operas ;  whoever  understands  so  wonderfully  how  to  do  it  may 
be  given  a  free  hand. "  It  made  me  very  happy  for  him,  that 
we  might  register  there,  also,  such  a  great  success  for  his 
opera. 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Viviane  in  Goldmark's  Merlin 

From  a  photograph  by  P.  Kalmar,  Budapest,  taken  in  1887 


America 

1887-1889 

THE  New  York  season  of  1887  began  on  November  2d, 
and  before  me  lay  a  very  strenuous  winter,  with 
Euryanthe  and  the  whole  Ring,  of  which  Siegfried  and 
Gdtterddmmerung  were  new  to  me.  Niemann  had  come  over 
again  with  me  for  Tristan,  created  the  role  of  Siegfried  in  the 
Gdtterddmmerung,  and  died  as  we  never  yet  had  seen  Siegfried 
die.  Alvary,  who  had  felt  very  wretched  over  there  for 
several  years,  sang  a  Wagner  r61e  for  the  first  time,  and, 
as  the  young  Siegfried,  he  achieved  a  great  and  deserved 
success,  that  quickly  elevated  him  to  the  first  rank  of  artists. 
It  was  tragic  that  he  was  so  unlucky  as  to  fall  a  few  years 
later  at  Mannheim,  during  the  fight  with  the  dragon,  for  this 
accident  sowed  the  seed  of  his  severe  suffering  and  early 
death. 

I  succeeded  in  persuading  the  committee,  in  spite  of  the 
large  expense,  to  fill  even  the  small  parts  with  the  best  talent, 
thereby  securing  model  performances,  but  in  one  point  I 
never  succeeded,  that  is,  in  getting  a  large  fir  tree  for  the 
Walkure  tree ;  Brunhild  had  to  be  satisfied  with  a  couple  of 
small  birches,  and  whenever  I  took  up  afresh  the  question 
of  a  "fir,"  it  was  always  refused  me  with  extreme  kindness 
but  with  adamantine  firmness,  because  the  scenery  of  an 
entire  opera,  together  with  its  transport,  came  to  less  in 
Germany  than  it  would  have  cost  to  paint  a  single  tree  in 
New  York.  I  was  much  astonished  when  a  mighty  oak  was 


372  My  Path  Through  Life 

painted  for  Norma,  at  my  benefit,  though  we  could  have  done 
very  well  without  it,  but  the  tree  for  Norma  stood  in  the 
painter's  contract,  and  the  fir  tree  did  not.  I  learned  that 
too  late,  unfortunately,  otherwise,  I  could  by  magic  have 
easily  changed  the  oak  into  a  fir,  and,  in  place  of  it,  I  could 
have  borrowed  the  "World  ash  tree"  from  Wotan  to  use  for 
the  mistletoe  breaking  in  Norma. 

Paul  Kalisch  had  not  signed  any  more  contracts  in  Berlin, 
and,  on  my  representations,  had  come  over  at  the  close  of 
the  season.  Here  there  was  no  lack  of  artistic  work,  and, 
even  before  he  had  reached  New  York,  there  were  already 
many  concert  engagements  for  him  in  my  hands. 

Everything  was  arranged  in  advance  for  our  marriage. 
On  the  day  of  his  arrival,  on  February  24,  1888,  we  went  at 
once  to  my  dear  friend,  the  ever-jovial  Consul-General  Feigl, 
with  whom  we  had  spent  many  happy  hours  either  alone  or 
in  interesting  company,  for  instance,  with  Baron  and  Baroness 
Heyking,  the  authoress  of  The  Letters  that  Never  Reached  Him. 
The  civil  formalities  were  quickly  over,  and  the  church  cere- 
mony, conducted  by  Pastor  Kriisi  in  the  little  Protestant 
church  did  not  take  much  longer.  The  minister's  wife  and 
daughters  and  my  niece  Hedwig  were  present  as  sole  wit- 
nesses. The  church  had  been  trimmed  with  flowers,  and  the 
ladies  of  the  Kriisi  family  consecrated  the  solemn  little  ser- 
vice by  singing  a  chorale  that  moved  us  deeply.  New  York 
did  not  learn  of  the  event  until  several  days  later,  when  we 
had  already  returned  to  the  work  for  the  next  concerts.  It 
was  not  to  be  exclusively  a  life  of  idleness  or  pleasure  that  I 
proposed  to  lead  with  my  husband,  who  had  now  become  my 
life  companion,  but  one  of  strong  co-operation  in  the  develop- 
ment of  ourselves  and  of  our  art,  that  should  lead  our  united 
lives  to  a  single  lofty  goal,  and  bring  us  happiness  in  the 
satisfaction  that  flows  from  having  striven  for  and  conquered 
the  highest  in  our  profession  for  which  our  natures  fitted  us. 

Seidl  at  once  gave  three  concerts,  of  which  two  were 
dedicated  to  Mozart  and  one  to  Wagner,  and  we  sang  at  them 


Lilli  Lehmann  and  Paul  Kalisch 
From  a  photograph  by  Falk,  New  York 


America,   1887-1889  373 

together,  for  the  first  time,  the  great  Paris  version  of  the 
Venus  scene.  It  is  difficult  for  me  to  describe  the  interest 
that  this  grand  scene  awakened  in  me  from  the  first  moment. 
In  the  original  the  Goddess  of  Love  is  only  a  resentful  or 
transiently  seductive  figure,  but  in  the  Paris  version  she 
becomes  spiritualised  womanhood,  and  the  words  and  music 
are  brought  back  from  the  infernal  orchestral  bacchanale  that 
precedes  the  scene  to  the  noblest  equilibrium.  I  was  mis- 
taken in  thinking  that  the  fresh  study  of  the  old  words  with 
new  rhythms  would  be  exceedingly  difficult;  it  proceeded  as 
spontaneously  as  though  I  had  never  sung  the  scene  differ- 
ently, and  as  though  it  were  the  original  composition.  I 
sang  it  very  often  at  concerts  and  in  the  opera  itself,  but  it 
always  seemed  to  me  more  adapted  to  the  concert  hall,  and 
I  thought  the  first  short  version  better  suited  to  the  opera 
than  the  second,  which  was  so  much  more  beautiful.  Per- 
haps because  it  was  too  noble,  Elizabeth's  character  was  not 
sufficiently  effective  in  contrast.  It  took  such  hold  of  me 
from  the  very  first  instant  that  I  could  have  persuaded  my- 
self Wagner  had  written  it  for  me  alone. 

My  husband's  debut  on  the  first  Mozart  evening  was 
sympathetically  received,  and,  in  the  course  of  the  night,  it 
became  an  enthusiastic  ovation  for  us  both.  Some  days 
subsequently,  the  most  prominent  wives  of  the  stockholders 
of  our  Metropolitan  Opera  House  met  together  to  present 
me  with  a  superb  piece  of  jewelry  that  had  been  designed 
especially  for  me  and  that  consisted  of  a  ring  and  horn  of 
plenty  in  diamonds,  surmounted  by  a  glittering  diamond 
crown,  and  which  represented  one  of  the  most  tasteful 
examples  of  the  American  jeweler's  art.  Several  years  later 
I  received  a  second  gift,  a  horseshoe  and  heart  of  diamonds, 
to  which  not  only  very  rich  but  also  very  poor  women  con- 
tributed, for  instance,  a  poor  embroiderer,  who  brought  her 
dollar  with  the  words,  she  had  hesitated  for  a  long  time 
whether  to  subscribe  the  money  or  to  spend  it  in  hearing  me 


374  My  Path  Through  Life 

sing  again,  but  the  token  of  remembrance  had  won  the 
day. 

Thirty- two  other  concerts  followed  these  first  three,  but 
they  had  to  be  postponed  for  a  time  because  of  a  terrible 
elementary  catastrophe.  After  the  last  concert  in  Boston, 
we  should  have  appeared  in  Philadelphia,  two  days  later, 
with  the  Symphony  Orchestra  from  the  former  city.  While 
the  orchestra  did  not  travel  until  evening  by  a  special  train, 
we  started  at  noon,  so  as  to  rest  in  New  York.  It  began  to 
snow  before  we  reached  there,  and  we  had  trouble  at  the 
station  in  finding  a  carriage  to  take  us  to  the  hotel.  Our  de- 
parture was  not  to  be  thought  of  the  next  morning ;  the  snow 
lay  half  a  metre  high,  the  street  cars  were  not  running,  and, 
from  the  window,  stalled  vehicles  without  horses  were  to  be 
seen  everywhere,  while  the  pitiless  snow  continued  to  fall. 
My  dear  niece,  Hedwig,  was  with  Rosa  Fischer;  we  heard 
nothing  from  her  or  from  the  orchestra,  there  were  no  news- 
papers, and  it  went  on  snowing  for  a  week.  It  was  fearful. 
Carl  Schurz  saw,  from  his  window,  a  man  swallowed  up  in 
the  snow,  without  being  able  to  help  him,  and  many  may 
have  lost  their  lives  in  that  way.  When  it  stopped  at  last  the 
snow  lay  eight  metres  deep,  and  people  began  to  go  through 
the  streets  with  gas  tubes,  and  to  melt  the  snow  by  using 
countless  burning  flames.  In  a  street  that  was  especially 
buried,  as  the  snow  had  completely  covered  it  up,  a  placard 
that  read,  "Here  was  23d  Street "  was  displayed  by  workmen. 

We  got  news  of  the  orchestra  at  last,  to  the  effect  that 
the  musicians  had  remained  stalled  and  helpless  in  the  special 
train,  between  Boston  and  New  York,  for  ninety  hours. 
This  blizzard  was  the  only  one  I  ever  witnessed  of  such  fear- 
ful power,  but  it  is  a  frequent  occurrence  in  the  interior  of  the 
country,  where  it  must  be  peculiarly  dangerous  for  school 
children,  who  have  to  take  lonely  roads.  In  the  cutting, 
icy  blasts  walking  finally  becomes  an  impossibility,  and, 
worn  out,  men  fall  down  and  die  what  is  said  to  be  a  glorious 
death.  In  the  side  streets  of  New  York,  vehicles  remained 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Venus  in  Taaahauser 

From  a  photograph  by  Aim6  Dupont,  New  York,  taken  in  1889 
(Copyright  by  Aime  Dupont) 


America,    1887-1889  375 

stuck  in  the  snow  for  a  long  time,  until  several  elephants 
were,  at  last,  borrowed  from  Barnum's  circus,  and  they  soon 
removed  the  street  obstacles.  America  is  practical] 

At  Troy,  we  saw  the  poor,  half-crippled  Roebling,  the 
builder  of  the  Brooklyn  Bridge,  who,  lying  in  front  of  the 
hotel  entrance,  drank  in  every  ray  of  sunlight  to  warm  his 
feeble  frame.  I  did  not  have  the  courage  to  speak  to  the 
man  who  had  sacrificed  his  health  to  the  completion  of  this 
gigantic  task. 

As  I  wanted  a  complete  rest  we  did  not  cross  until  the  begin- 
ning of  January,  in  1889,  and  we  rejoiced  like  children  in  find- 
ing the  amiable  Theodor  Reichmann  there.  Alvary,  who  was 
to  sing  Tannhauser  for  the  first  time,  acted  very  strangely  at 
the  rehearsal.  The  manager  had  to  call  his  attention  to  the 
fact  that  the  r61e  should  not  be  taken  so  lightly,  and  should 
not  be  treated  as  a  joke,  but  he  did  not  seem  even  to  know 
his  part.  At  two  o'clock  on  the  next  afternoon,  the  manager 
burst  in  upon  us  to  entreat  Herr  Kalisch  to  sing  Tannhauser 
that  night,  in  the  place  of  Alvary  who  was  ill.  My  husband, 
who  was  not  a  so-called  "stop-gap,"  defended  himself 
energetically  against  the  unreasonable  demand,  but,  as  there 
was  no  end  to  the  entreaties  and  importunities,  he  finally 
agreed  to  save  the  performance,  and  to  substitute  for  the 
invalided  Alvary,  who,  contrary  to  all  professional  rules 
and  his  own  declaration,  was  amongst  the  spectators  that 
evening. 

Perotti,  the  tenor,  once  upon  a  time  the  beginner  at 
Prague,  now  engaged  for  Italian  parts,  and  Alvary,  who  had 
tremendously  increased  his  demands  since  his  success  as 
Siegfried,  were  not  to  be  re-engaged.  Without  a  word  being 
said  by  us  or  a  step  taken,  Stanton  suddenly  came  to  Kalisch 
with  an  excellent  offer,  which  the  latter  accepted  only  after 
Stanton  had  assured  him  that  there  was  no  question  that 
Alvary  would  be  engaged.  Nasty  articles  appeared  against 
me  in  the  papers,  but  I  promptly  blunted  the  point  of  them 


376  My  Path  Through  Life 

by  declaring  that  I  would  not  sing  again  unless  the  manage- 
ment refuted  the  attacks  by  publishing  the  truth.  This  was 
done  by  a  public  statement  that  Alvary's  demands  were 
excessive  and  that  therefore  it  was  impossible  to  re-engage 
him.  Alvary  turned  his  back  on  us.  I  was  reluctant  for  a 
long  time  to  recognise  the  possibility  of  an  unworthy  thought 
towards  me  being  the  reason  for  such  conduct,  and  I  took 
Alvary  to  be  ill,  but  this  was  not  the  case;  he  thought  that 
we  were  both  capable  of  perfidy,  and  so  he  spoiled  a  beautiful 
comradeship,  which  grieved  me  more  for  his  sake  than  for 
my  own. 

After  the  close  of  the  season,  we  travelled  for  two  months 
with  the  Ring,  in  which,  every  week,  I  sang  three  Briin- 
hildes  in  succession,  and  usually  a  fourth  r61e  on  Saturdays. 
As  we  carried  with  us  from  New  York  the  scenery,  neces- 
saries, costumes,  orchestra,  chorus,  wardrobe  women,  etc. ,  it 
was  not  too  exhausting  although  very  hard  work.  Very 
absurd  scenes  often  occurred.  At  each  place  I  had  a  differ- 
ent "Grane";  here  it  was  a  pony,  there  it  was  a  drayhorse. 
Sometimes  rats  gnawed  the  feathers  on  the  unpacked 
Walkure  helmets,  or  such  things  occurred  as  happened  to 
Kalisch  at  the  close  of  the  Gdtterdammerung,  when  he,  as 
Siegfried,  lay  on  the  bier,  with  Gutrune  standing  in  front  of 
him,  and  his  whole  body  began  to  itch  so  that  he  was  obliged 
to  ask  her  to  scratch  him,  because  he  could  not  endure  it  a 
moment  longer.  When  he  got  up,  he  was  covered  all  over 
with  blisters,  caused  by  vermin  that  had  got  in  the  fur  covers 
on  the  way. 

Our  colleagues  used  to  tell  us  of  earlier  times,  and  how 
they  arrived  once  in  a  strange  city,  shortly  before  the 
beginning  of  the  opera  of  Faust,  and  went  immediately  to 
the  opera-house,  but  found  neither  costumes  nor  scenery,  as 
they  had  not  yet  reached  there.  Faust  had  brought  with 
him,  by  chance,  his  Troubadour  costume,  but  Margarethe 
and  the  others  had  nothing  save  their  travelling  clothes,  in 
which  the  opera  was  finally  sung,  only  Faust  parading  in  the 


America,   1887-1889  377 

costume  of  Manrico,  which,  moreover,  did  not  do  the  least 
harm  to  the  illusion  and  the  applause.  On  a  side  trip  to 
Albany,  a  small  gilded  pot  cover  was  once  hung  on  me  in 
Norma,  as  "IrmensuTs  shield,"  and,  in  the  scene  in  the 
second  act  in  which  I  had  to  murder  the  children,  who  ran 
towards  me  in  the  first  act  with  cries  of  "Oh,  Mama!"  a 
small  comfortable  room  with  pointed  window-panes  was 
set  up,  and  near  the  latter  hung  the  portrait  of  a  man  wear- 
ing modern  dress  (probably  the  rich  uncle  from  America). 
I  had  trouble  to  hide  all  these  charming  things  with  green 
baize,  straw  thatch,  and  anything  we  could  find  before  I 
went  to  the  murder,  and  I  was  much  exhausted  when  the  act 
began.  How  foolish  of  me!  The  people  would  never  have 
noticed  the  pointed  windows;  the  chief  concern  for  them  was 
to  hear  and  see  Norma  herself — everything  else  was  a  matter 
of  indifference,  and  so  it  should  have  been  for  me. 

I  must  not  omit  to  sing  the  praises  of  my  New  York 
"Grane. "  As  soon  as  my  dressing-room  door  was  opened, 
he  would  come  across  from  the  other  side  of  the  stage  to  get  a 
piece  of  sugar;  he  knew  me  and  my  white  dress.  In  the 
Gotterddmmerung,  he  would  stand  next  me,  lick  my  arm  and 
face,  and  nestle  up  close,  and  he  could  not  have  behaved 
better.  A  thin  cord,  that  hung  about  my  arm,  sufficed  to 
lead  him  everywhere  and  he  would  have  followed  me  without 
it.  The  dear  animal  made  the  first  scene  really  intimate,  and 
I  should  have  liked  to  take  him  for  mine  altogether. 

Up  to  this  time,  all  had  gone  smoothly;  even  the  fearful 
plague  of  influenza,  that  snatched  away  such  a  large  num- 
ber of  persons,  had  only  touched  me  on  the  elbow  though 
my  husband  had  been  well  shaken  by  it,  but  we  could  not 
complain.  The  funeral  processions  were  endless ;  one  could 
not  look  out  of  the  window  without  seeing  some,  and  in  all 
the  streets  crape  hung  on  many  doors  as  a  sign  that  Death 
had  entered  there. 

Poor  Heinrich  Vogl,  who  had  been  chosen  to  be  our  Wag- 


378  My  Path  Through  Life 

ner  hero  in  the  winter  campaign  of  1889-90,  had  travelled 
from  Munich  with  a  carbuncle  on  his  neck,  was  warned 
in  Bremen  not  to  go  farther,  had  it  lanced  on  the  ship,  and 
was  taken  at  once  to  the  hospital  in  New  York  where  he 
struggled  with  death  for  weeks  until  his  strong  constitution 
got  the  upper  hand.  When  we  were,  at  last,  permitted  to  go 
to  call  on  him  at  the  hotel,  we  saw  the  wound,  which  the 
physician  was  just  bandaging  again.  How  could  any  one 
live  with  such  a  thing!  The  physician  was  of  the  opinion 
that  Vogl  had  to  thank  his  unusually  wide  and  loose  scalp 
that  the  terrible  wound  had  closed  again.  It  had  not  yet 
reached  that  point  when  he  had  resumed  singing,  with  a 
sort  of  Tarnhelm  on  the  wounded  head — and  only  towards 
the  end  of  the  season  did  he  feel  strong  enough  to  use  his  full 
voice,  and  to  unfold  completely  his  artistic  powers.  The 
public  did  not  make  him  suffer  for  it ;  it  distinguished  Vogl 
at  every  opportunity,  so  as  to  show  its  sympathy,  and  the 
critics  followed  the  public,  and  paid  him  the  greatest  tributes. 
Vogl  did  much  with  incomparable  beauty  and  artistry,  and 
I  have  never  seen  played  nor  heard  sung  more  touchingly 
than  by  him  that  phrase  in  the  Gotterdammerung,  "Should 
I  forget  all  that  thou  hast  given  me. " 

A  whole  chapter  would  not  be  too  much  to  devote  to 
American  criticism  in  recognition  of  all  that  it  has  done  for 
German  opera  and  German  artists  in  an  unselfish  and  un- 
prejudiced way.  America  has  heard  the  best  that  Italian 
opera  and  Italian  drama  have  produced,  and  it  was  more 
spoiled  than  we  were  as  regards  artistic  matters.  Thither 
went,  almost  universally,  only  the  greatest  stars,  and,  in  my 
day,  only  a  very  few  fashionable  families  travelled  to  Europe — • 
indeed,  many  persons  vowed  that  they  would  never  cross  the 
ocean.  Now  it  is  quite  otherwise,  but  then  only  those  artists 
that  went  over  could  be  heard,  and  they  were  always  the 
best.  It  was  natural  that  the  public  panted  for  Wagner.  It 
knew  well  Lohengrin,  The  Flying  Dutchman,  and  Tann- 
hduser,  Mozart  and  Beethoven  almost  better  than  we  our- 


America,   1887-1889  379 

selves,  but  it  longed  for  the  Ring,  the  Meister singer,  and 
Tristan.  Now  came  German  opera,  in  other  guise  than  for- 
merly, to  give  it  all  this,  and  with  artists  as  good  as  only 
Germany  could  offer  them. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  there  was  gladness  of 
heart  on  both  sides.  The  critics  were  incessantly  interested 
in  conferences,  which  impressed  many,  even  us  artists,  on  the 
preparatory  work  necessary  to  quicken  the  understanding  of 
Wagner's  text  and  music.  In  this  they  succeeded  brilliantly 
and  no  expression  of  appreciation  of  it  can  be  sufficient. 
Perhaps  I  may  be  successful  in  showing  how  the  critics  bore 
themselves  towards  the  artists  if  I  select  the  words  that 
Henry  Krehbiel,  of  the  Tribune,  addressed  to  Albert  Nie- 
mann,  after  the  last  Tristan  performance  of  his  first  American 
journey:  "Niemann  owes  us  nothing  for  the  reception  that 
we  have  given  him,  for  it  is  we  whom  he  has  taught,  and  we 
have  to  thank  him,  the  great  artist  without  an  equal,  for  the 
knowledge  that  he  has  endowed  us  with  and  that  will  live  on 
in  us,  together  with  his  name. "  If  the  promised  gratitude  of 
America  for  everything  that  we  gave  there  shall  endure  it 
must  be  outlived  by  the  thanks  that  we,  the  German  artists, 
owe  the  country  and  the  noble  people,  and  it  should  be  in- 
scribed in  golden  letters  in  the  history  of  the  opera,  of  music, 
and  of  German  art. 

I  had  been  installed  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  at 
New  York  in  a  confidential  position,  and  my  artistic  advice 
was  asked  concerning  occasions  of  special  engagements,  opera 
productions,  or  appointments.  It  must  have  been  in  the 
winter  of  1887  that  Mr.  Stanton  came  to  me  with  the  question 
whether  we  could  give  Parsifal.  There  was  no  doubt  that 
we  could  give  it ;  we  possessed  great  artists  enough,  a  wonder- 
ful orchestra,  and  Anton  Seidl,  the  best  of  Wagner  conduc- 
tors. The  question  had  completely  surprised  me,  however. 
After  Mr.  Stanton  had  explained  that  no  law  or  prohibition 
of  performance  for  America  had  to  be  considered,  and,  also, 


380  My  Path  Through  Life 

that  for  other  Wagner  operas  royalties  were  never  paid,  my 
advice  was  not  to  produce  Parsifal,  to  leave  it  to  Bayreuth, 
where  alone  it  belonged,  as  it  required,  more  than  any  other 
work  of  Wagner's,  the  consecrated  atmosphere  of  the 
Bayreuth  setting,  that  could  be  provided  by  no  other  opera- 
house  in  the  world;  I  said,  moreover,  that  the  guilt  of  pro- 
faning Wagner's  swan  song  should  not  be  incurred,  and  the 
sacrifice  of  renouncing  this  very  pardonable  desire  should  be 
brought  to  the  ideal  of  his  art  and  his  genius.  I  urged  upon 
Mr.  Stanton,  also,  when  the  receipts  permitted,  not  to  with- 
hold the  royalties  from  the  Wagner  family,  but  to  act  in  that 
matter,  likewise,  as  was  becoming  towards  art  and  works  of  art. 

Parsifal  was  not  given!  I  had  the  further  satisfaction 
that,  after  some  time,  Mr.  Stanton,  in  person,  took  to  Frau 
Cosima  a  large  amount  in  royalties,  though  I  cannot  re- 
member now  exactly  whether  it  came  to  sixteen  or  twenty 
thousand  marks  or  dollars,  for  which  Mr.  Stanton  was 
rewarded,  later,  with  a  Bavarian  decoration. 

But  Parsifal  was  not  to  be  entirely  lost  to  us.  An  "Anton 
Seidl  Society"  had  been  founded  in  Brooklyn,  a  city  sepa- 
rated only  by  the  East  River  and  a  part  of  New  York, 
connected  with  it  by  the  great  Brooklyn  Bridge,  and  this 
organisation  supported,  from  its  treasury,  the  symphonic 
concert  performances  led  by  Seidl  as  conductor. 

There  had  ceased  to  be  any  more  talk  about  Parsifal, 
when,  suddenly,  in  the  winter  of  1889-90,  the  idea  sprang 
up  in  Brooklyn  of  giving  it  in  fragments  at  concerts.  The 
Seidl  Society  took  charge  of  the  arrangements,  while  we 
artists  gave  our  services,  as  it  was  necessary  to  raise  large 
sums  for  the  big  and  very  costly  orchestra,  the  rent  of  the 
hall,  the  rehearsals,  etc.  We  immediately  applied  ourselves 
to  the  study  of  it.  The  deep  and  lasting  impression,  which 
I  had  received  from  the  work  in  Bayreuth  in  1883,  was  as 
vivid  in  my  memory  as  though  just  made,  and  I  recalled 
every  tone,  every  inmost  movement  as  clearly  as  though  I 
and  not  another  had  sung  Kundry. 


America,    1887-1889  381 

On  March  31,  1890,  the  Brooklyn  Academy  of  Music, 
that  is,  the  large  opera-house,  was  transformed  into  a  concert 
hall.  Seats  were  sold  at  twenty  dollars  apiece,  and  could  be 
got  only  by  the  members  of  the  Seidl  Society.  The  audito- 
rium was  hung  with  white  and  pale  blue  material,  against 
which  everywhere  were  green  and  fragrant  plants,  and 
the  interior  and  exterior  were  decorated  with  luxuriant 
palms.  On  the  stage,  where  the  orchestra  was  placed,  with 
the  chorus  and  artists  sitting  in  front,  all  the  music  stands 
were  hidden  by  fresh  green  palm  leaves,  and  hundreds  of 
growing  white  lilies  adorned  the  stage  and  auditorium. 
There  was  a  Good-Friday  atmosphere!  The  place  was 
transformed  into  a  temple.  Instruments  and  voices  united 
in  the  message  of  the  Grail,  to  carry  the  proclamation  of 
suffering  and  redemption  to  the  souls  of  the  listeners.  That 
the  performance  did  not  lack  in  devotion  and  dignity  I  can 
vouch  for  heartily. 


1889 

JN  Grunewald,  in  Gninewald  there  is  a  wood  auction,"  is 
the  refrain  of  the  pretty  song  that  used  to  be  heard 
through  all  the  streets  of  Berlin,  and  its  deep  meaning  be- 
came clear  to  me  first  when  the  government  architect,  Solf, 
invited  us  to  look  at  a  country  house  that  he  had  just  com- 
pleted for  Friedrich  Dernburg.  Without  a  suspicion  of  what 
had  been  quietly  developing  there,  we  looked  with  amaze- 
ment at  the  Grunewald,  through  which  I  had  so  often 
wandered  in  earlier  days,  suddenly  converted  to  colonising 
purposes,  and  divided  off  into  building  lots  and  streets.  So 
there  it  was  that  the  wood  auction  took  place.  We  were  so 
promptly  delighted  with  the  still  quite  idyllic  place  and  the 
tall  woods,  that  it  needed  only  the  question  whether  any 
building  sites  remained  unsold,  and  Self's  reassuring  reply, 
for  me  to  secure  two  lots,  which,  by  the  next  afternoon,  I 
called  my  own.  And  just  as  quickly  as  the  purchase  had 
been  concluded  did  Solf  draw  the  plans  for  our  country 
house,  which  he  threw  on  board  the  train,  a  couple  of  days 
later,  that  carried  us  to  Bremen  for  another  ocean  voyage. 
Nothing  had  been  discussed,  and  yet  Solf  assured  us  that 
we  could  move  in  by  October,  1890.  Of  course  that  did  not 
happen,  for  when  did  an  owner  ever  get  possession  of  his 
house  at  the  stipulated  time? 

A  frightful  storm  in  the  Channel  delayed  us  nine  hours  at 
Southampton,  a  storm,  that,  in  the  captain's  opinion,  would 

382  _ 


Grunewald,   1889  383 

have  been  much  worse  for  us  outside.  The  rest  at  South- 
ampton did  us  good,  for  we  recovered  somewhat,  and  hoped 
that  we  had  been  through  the  worst.  But  we  had  hardly 
reached  the  Needles  than  the  storm  broke  loose  with  re- 
doubled fury,  and  continued  to  the  American  coast.  The 
English  pilot,  who  should  have  left  the  ship  at  the  Needles, 
could  not  be  put  off,  and  he  wept  like  a  child,  and  behaved 
like  a  miserable  weakling  because  he  had  to  go  on  to  New 
York.  This  crossing  lasted  fully  ten  days.  An  acquain- 
tance of  my  husband's,  H.  von  St.,  who  was  going  to  the 
embassy  at  Washington,  joined  our  party.  (At  Washington, 
the  wide,  beautiful  garden  city,  with  its  mild  climate,  our 
very  amiable  Ambassador,  Baron  von  Thielmann,  and  his 
dear  wife,  presented  me  to  President  Cleveland,  who  was 
universally  esteemed,  at  the  White  House,  a  man  whom  I 
often  met  thereafter).  H.  von  St.,  my  husband  and  I 
stayed  in  the  little  smoking-room  on  deck  during  nearly  the 
whole  voyage,  and  nourished  ourselves,  in  vegetarian  fashion, 
on  fruit  and  oatmeal  gruel.  We  got  air  up  there,  even  when 
I  did  not  desire  to  see  any  more  of  the  everlasting,  white- 
capped,  mountainous  waves. 

The  feeling  of  wretchedness,  of  discomfort  even,  if  not 
actual  seasickness,  does  not  leave  one  on  a  bad  crossing, 
which  has  none  of  the  pleasure  that  many  may  imagine,  and 
it  cannot  conduce  to  health.  Worst  of  all  to  me  was  the 
protracted  idleness;  I  mended  flags,  an  occupation  that  I 
gladly  took  from  the  men  at  the  wheel,  but  otherwise  there 
was  little  for  me  to  do.  My  surplus  energy  I  was  permitted 
to  employ  in  Southampton,  at  my  pressing  entreaty,  as 
postman  in  the  service  of  the  ship,  helping  to  carry  out  the 
post-bags.  There  was  not  a  single  concert  given  on  the 
Lahn  during  this  trip ;  on  another,  again,  a  very  wobbly  one. 
Among  those  taking  part,  who  had  to  cling  to  the  piano  or  a 
firmly  sere  wed- down  chair  because  of  the  heavy  roll  of  the 
ship,  were  Teresa  Carrefio,  my  excellent  friend,  Professor 
Reinhold  Hermann,  my  accompanist  for  many  years  at  my 


384  My  Path  Through  Life 

song  recitals  and  concert  tours  hither  and  yon,  and  my  sister 
and  I.  Dear  Teresa  Carreno  lay  near  us  in  the  cabin,  always 
seasick  and  always  in  the  best  spirits.  When  we  sat  by  her 
lounge  in  the  evening,  we  laughed  ourselves  sick  over  the 
funniest  stories,  which  she  told  capitally,  from  her  career  in 
opera  and  as  conductor  and  impresario. 

A  young  giant  of  a  Canadian,  whom  we  dubbed  "Boy," 
was  the  enfant  terrible  of  the  entire  ship.  He  fell  upstairs  as 
well  as  downstairs,  walked  outside  the  guard-rail,  slid  along 
it,  vanished  (one  would  have  sworn  to  it)  in  the  ocean,  and 
suddenly  reappeared  on  the  other  side  of  the  boat ;  wherever 
one  went  one  was  frightened  by,  or  stopped  and  looked  at, 
this  charming,  attractive  "Boy."  In  spite  of  the  wretched 
weather,  to  which  the  captain  had  "subscribed,"  as  he 
assured  us,  all  the  arrangements  were  made  for  the  concert, 
and  the  programme  was  written  out  by  Professor  Hermann 
something  as  follows:  (i)  The  ship's  orchestra — it  must;  (2) 
Madame  Carreno — if  she  holds  out ;  (3)  Madame  Lehmann — 
if  she  is  able;  (4)  Reinhold  Hermann — the  sea  permitting; 
(5)  Marie  Lehmann — if  she  can,  etc. 

Two  days  before  the  concert,  we  were  sitting  together  in 
the  salon,  with  a  calm  sea,  playing  scat,  when  suddenly 
Riezl,  Hermann,  and  I  fell  from  our  chairs  with  a  fearful 
crash,  and  everything  that  was  not  firmly  secured  broke 
into  a  thousand  pieces.  Pale  as  death,  we  lay  on  the  floor 
for  a  while,  expecting  and  fearing  a  second  shock,  but, 
although  we  rolled  fearfully  for  all  of  twenty-four  hours, 
that  was  not  repeated.  The  captain  thought  we  might  have 
got  between  two  ground-swells,  which  may  have  been  so, 
but  that  quieted  neither  us  nor  the  ship.  Before  the  concert, 
we  put  the  useless  "Boy  "  in  Teresa's  reform  clothes.  In  the 
character  of  the  "Maiden  from  Distant  Lands,"  he  was 
stuffed  out  like  a  girl  and  painted  although  he  resisted  man- 
fully, and  then  he  had  to  pass  the  plate  for  the  "Seamen's 
Fund. "  We  had  already  permitted  ourselves  a  similar  joke. 
The  heroic  tenor  of  our  company  was  also  on  board,  and  was 


Grunewald,   1889  385 

paying  marked  attention  to  a  pretty  American  woman.  One 
evening,  the  singer  was  not  to  be  seen,  and  he  was  said  to  be 
lying  sick  in  his  cabin.  The  Canadian  youth  was  dressed  up 
by  us  all  and  led  to  the  cabin  door.  The  beautiful  object  of 
his  worship  desired  to  be  admitted,  it  was  announced,  and 
asked  if  she  might  visit  the  invalid.  Upon  his  cordial  assent, 
the  disguised  boy  was  shoved  into  the  dark  stateroom,  and 
the  door  was  closed  again  at  once.  We  listened  breathlessly; 
after  a  few  seconds,  a  cry  was  heard  and  tremendous  laughter, 
and  the  adored  one  flew  out  of  the  door  of  the  bold  singer, 
whom  we  laughed  at  unmercifully  for  the  successful  joke. 

Important  star  engagements  kept  us  in  Boston  and 
Chicago  until  the  middle  of  May.  At  the  latter  city  is  the 
wonderful  Auditorium  Theatre,  where  the  stage  resembles 
a  framed  picture,  without  proscenium  boxes,  but  with 
wide,  pale  gold  side  walls  that  contribute  to  the  splendid 
acoustics. 

Against  all  prayers  and  urgings  I  held  to  my  purpose  of 
resting  completely  the  following  winter,  instead  of  crossing 
again,  but  I  did  not  get  away  until  I  had  promised  solemnly 
that  I  would  sing  during  the  season  of  1891-92.  Before  I 
left,  I  had  a  long  conference  with  Stanton  and  Seidl  about 
our  repertoire,  that,  in  my  judgment,  was  made  up  of  too 
much — indeed,  almost  exclusively — of  Wagner,  which  would 
become  an  excessive  amount  in  the  long  run  for  the  stock- 
holders as  well  as  the  public.  I  advised  the  giving  of  Italian 
opera,  also,  which  was  difficult,  indeed,  as  perfection  in  that 
could  not  be  expected  of  our  German  singers,  and  America, 
in  this  regard,  had  learned  to  know  the  best.  It  was  repre- 
sented to  me  that  the  Wagner  operas  were  the  most  potent 
attraction,  and  I  saw  that  my  words  of  warning  were  wasted, 
but  the  future  taught  them  to  know  better  in  the  end. 

Intolerable  palpitation  of  the  heart  and  many  sleepless 
nights  reminded  me,  all  the  more  pressingly,  of  the  first  night 
of  Lucia,  at  Berlin,  because  I  had  had  to  send  for  a  physician 


386  My  Path  Through  Life 

at  Boston  after  the  Gotterdammerung.  He  gave  me  a  powder 
for  a  sensation  of  chilliness  in  the  head  and  insomnia,  which 
put  me  to  sleep,  and  I  was  soon  restored.  The  doctor  said 
only  one  word,  "overworked!"  If  I  lived  in  Europe  at  an 
altitude  of  more  than  5000  feet  I  could  not  keep  myself  warm, 
and  it  took  many  weeks  to  become  accustomed  to  the  high 
atmosphere.  On  very  high  peaks,  I  was  usually  seized  by  a 
feeling  of  complete  dissolution,  a  sensation  of  Nirvana  at 
the  sight  of  the  great  natural  wonders — conditions  that 
troubled  me  and  others,  and  that  remained  inexplicable  to 
me  because  they  vanished  again. 

There  could  be  no  thought  of  the  dreamed-of  rest;  our 
house,  that  was  finished  in  the  rough,  caused  us  much 
running  about,  and,  as  soon  as  it  was  known  that  I  was  in 
Europe,  all  kinds  of  offers  for  concert  and  star  engagements 
rained  in  upon  me. 

In  the  matter  of  my  broken  contract,  I  turned  to  His 
Majesty,  Emperor  Wilhelm  II.,  laid  the  circumstances  before 
him,  and  wrote  that,  if  Hulsen  had  not  then  been  so  ill  and 
had  not  died  soon  after,  such  a  boycott  would  never  have 
been  instituted,  and  I  begged  His  Majesty  to  be  graciously 
pleased  to  take  up  my  case.  The  letter  had  to  be  approved 
by  Count  Hochberg,  and  given  to  His  Majesty  the  Emperor, 
and,  with  this  in  view,  I  took  it  myself  to  the  bureau,  but 
I  never  heard  of  it  again. 

My  first  reappearance  in  Berlin  was  arranged  with  the 
Philharmonic  orchestra  and  Hans  von  Bulow  in  October, 
1890.  I  was  genuinely  glad  that  it  was  with  the  master, 
Biilow,  and  it  seemed  that  he  was  pleased,  also.  How  pain- 
fully correct  he  was,  how  seriously  he  took  his  art,  may  be 
seen  from  the  fact  that  he  rushed  to  me  on  the  morning  of 
the  concert,  after  two  rehearsals,  in  order  to  ask  me  whether 
I  wished  this  or  that  chord  in  the  recitative  of  the  "Rache" 
aria  to  fall  with  the  word  or  after  it — of  course,  very  important 
questions  for  two  musicians  of  our  rank.  We  repeated  the 
same  programme  at  Hamburg,  and  then  Hans  von  Biilow 


Grunewald,   1889  387 

soon  vanished  forever  from  our  gaze,  but  not  from  my 
memory  nor  my  veneration. 

Immediately  thereafter,  Gustav  Mahler  entered  my 
artistic  life  as  director  of  the  National  Opera  at  Budapest, 
a  newcomer  who  had  a  strong  will  and  understanding.  He 
had  informed  me  by  letter  that  my  terms  went  beyond  his 
budget,  but  that  he  considered  it  absolutely  necessary  to 
engage  me,  so  as  to  give  his  associates  an  artistic  model  after 
which  they  should  strive.  It  was  a  delightful  time  that  we 
spent  there  in  a  small  select  circle.  There  was  Mahler,  with 
his  full  devotion  and  freshness,  steering  towards  his  goal; 
the  admirable  Hungarian  tragedienne,  Marie  Taszai,  a 
kind  of  Ristori,  and  yet  possessed  of  innate  simplicity  and 
naturalness,  and  who  constantly  studied  and  studied;  Count 
Albert  Apponyi,  Professor  Michalowich,  our  dear  Bayreuth 
artist  friends,  and  my  little  niece.  We  met  one  another 
everywhere.  I  sang  all  my  roles  in  Italian,  and  only  that  of 
Recha  in  the  Judin  in  French,  as  the  choice  had  been  left  to 
me,  and  I  never  suspected  that  Perotti,  as  the  Jew,  would 
sing  in  Italian.  All  the  others'  parts  were  sung  in  Hungarian, 
and  one  may  imagine  the  cosmopolitan  babel  of  tongues  in 
these  operatic  performances,  in  which  every  foreigner  who 
sang  without  a  prompter  had  difficulty  in  keeping  true  to  his 
language.  The  still  young  and  fiery  Mahler  took  the  short 
men's  trio  of  the  first  act  of  Don  Juan  in  the  fastest  allegro, 
because  it  was  marked  alia  breve,  which  here  indicates  not  a 
quickened  but  a  calm  tempo.  Mahler  made  the  same  mis- 
take in  the  Mask  trio,  without  the  alia  breve  sign,  but  there 
I  promptly  vetoed  it,  and  I  think  he  never  again  fell  back, 
in  that  place,  into  his  allegro  madness.  When  I  discussed  it 
with  Bulow,  he  was  horrified,  and  said  of  that  alia  breve 
exactly  what  I  have  already  written. 

I  can  still  see  Mahler  kneeling  before  our  stove,  and 

brewing,  in  a  tin  spoon,  some  medicament  for  Hedwig  H , 

after  a  recipe  of  his  grandmother's,  for  which  he  had  brought 
everything  with  him.  The  missing  coat  buttons  which  he 


388  My  Path  Through  Life 

had  lost  heaven  knows  where,  were  usually  sewed  on  for 
him  at  Frau  Taszai's.  We  often  walked,  rested,  and  leaped 
with  him  over  hedges  and  ditches  in  the  beautiful  environs  of 
Budapest,  and  had  a  jolly  time.  I  was  a  friend  to  Mahler, 
and  retained  affection  for  him  always.  I  honoured  him  for  his 
great  talent,  his  tremendous  capacity  for  work,  and  his 
rectitude  towards  his  art,  and  I  stood  by  him  in  all  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  his  life,  because  of  his  great  qualities,  that  were 
often  mistaken  and  misunderstood.  I  comprehended  even 
his  nervous  conditions,  that  sometimes  unjustly  afflicted 
those  who  could  not  keep  pace  with  his  talent  and  his  in- 
domitable ambition  and  industry,  because  I,  also,  formerly 
believed  that  only  a  strong  will  was  needed  to  perfect  what 
one  is  able  to  perfect  himself,  that  is,  to  strive  beyond  his 
strength.  I  have  known  for  a  long  time  now  that  that  is  not 
so.  We  were  good  friends,  even  if  we  were  of  opposite 
opinions,  which  was  often  the  case  in  respect  to  his  newest 
scenic  creations.  I  was  the  first  who  learned  from  him  that 
he  would  be  obliged  to  resign  his  position,  and  just  on  the 
very  day  that  I  had  intended  to  fulfil  his  long-cherished 
wish,  and  to  attach  myself  for  some  months  to  the  Vienna 
Court  Opera,  so  as  to  present  there  Armida,  and  the  two 
Iphigenias,  which  was  an  old  desire  of  Wilhelm  Jahn's,  also. 
Our  beautiful  dream  was  not  to  be  realised. 

The  causes  of  his  leaving  Vienna  were  very  complicated. 
Mahler  had  no  talent  for  handling  people,  or  for  business. 
He  made  me  promise  to  give  him  a  visiting  engagement, 
every  year,  but  he  could  never  assign  a  fixed  time,  and  what, 
for  example,  was  agreed  upon  for  March  was  often  postponed 
to  April  or  May,  and  then  would  take  place  in  February. 
He  was  always  an  idealist,  and  had  no  sense  of  time  or  of 
rest,  either  for  himself  or  others.  It  was  natural  that  he 
rudely  rebuffed  the  minor  private  interests  of  a  court  theatre, 
and  thereby  made  powerful  enemies  for  himself.  Who  could 
find  fault  with  him  that,  in  his  impulsive  way,  seeking  only 
what  was  beautiful,  he  often  thought  he  would  find  it  by 


Grunewald,   1889  389 

means — never  thinking  of  economy — which  others  imposed 
on  him,  and  that  he  himself  had  to  admit  later  were  wrong. 
It  was  not  his  purse  that  he  filled,  and  he  never  thought 
of  himself.  There  was  much  that,  as  a  practical  friend,  one 
had  to  teach  him,  and  to  point  out  to  him  most  earnestly  his 
rights  and  his  future. 

Mahler  was  a  nervous  fanatic  of  art,  looked  like  the  devil 
himself,  was  as  amiable  as  a  child,  and  a  tender  protector 
and  father  to  his  sisters,  wife,  and  children ;  he  was  an  im- 
mense force,  and  certainly  for  many  years  inwardly  a  sick 
man.  He  attacked  with  tremendous  energy  whatever  he 
undertook  to  finish,  energy  that  melted  into  the  most  beauti- 
ful harmonious  co-operation  whenever  he  met  with  a  con- 
genial power,  and,  indeed,  often  subordinated  itself.  It  was 
always  a  solemn  occasion  when  one  worked  with  him.  I 
was  grieved,  on  his  account,  that  he  had  to  cross  the  ocean, 
as  he  could  not  remain  in  Vienna,  so  as  to  get  on  the  other 
side,  what  so  many  desire  to  obtain,  his  independence  from 
compulsion  for  his  old  age,  for  his  family,  and  not  least  for 
his  own  creative  work.  He  gave  much  to  Vienna,  even 
though  here  and  there  it  was  in  ugly  guise,  as,  for  instance,  in 
Don  Juan,  which  he  described  to  me  himself  as  a  total  failure, 
and  also  in  Figaro,  that  might  have  been  a  splendid  repre- 
sentation if  the  scenic  part  and  many  of  the  costumes  had 
not  been  contrary  to  all  grace  and  naturalness.  The  crown 
of  all  his  productions  was  Iphigenie  in  Aulis,  which,  clear 
in  every  respect  and  harmonious  in  spirit,  was  the  most 
beautiful  thing  that  I  can  imagine  in  classical  art.  The 
highest  was  attained  in  that,  and  probably  only  because  a 
simple  tent  canvas  enclosed  the  scene  of  the  great  tragedy. 
Nothing  disturbing  broke  in  on  the  art  of  Mahler,  the  artist, 
and  the  artists  who  were  singing,  who  suffer  from  any  un- 
necessary or  clumsy  decorative  stuff,  and  are  not  able  to 
be  effective  because  the  external  bombast  throttles  and 
suffocates  every  fine  feeling. 

In  Mahler's  symphonic  compositions,  I  was  struck  at 


390  My  Path  Through  Life 

once  by  the  fact  that  the  effect  was  caused  by  the  simplicity 
of  the  melodies,  which  he  knew  how  to  present,  of  course, 
with  an  immense  apparatus.  The  idea  flashed  into  my  mind, 
at  the  same  time,  that  perhaps  he  might  be  the  very  one  who 
would  be  willing,  especially  with  regard  to  the  machinery,  to 
strike  again  into  simple  paths,  and  I  put  the  question  to  him. 
He  replied  with  scornful  laughter,  "What  are  you  thinking 
of?  In  a  century  my  symphonies  will  be  performed  in 
immense  halls  that  will  hold  from  twenty  to  thirty  thousand 
people,  and  will  be  great  popular  festivals."  I  was  silent, 
but  I  thought,  involuntarily,  that  the  more  music  is  deprived 
of  intimacy,  the  more  it  will  be  lacking  in  true  genius. '  It  is 
so,  also,  at  the  theatre,  for  when  the  stage  and  auditorium 
exceed  a  certain  size,  there  can  be  no  more  art  for  the  artist 
and  art  lover.  Then  the  circus  begins,  where  the  actors 
appear  in  dead  masks,  because  the  individual  gestures,  eyes, 
and  physiognomies  cannot  be  distinguished,  and  not  a  word 
can  be  understood.  In  a  great  orchestra,  every  individual 
instrument  is  lost,  as  is  the  personality  of  each  single  picture 
in  a  huge  exhibition  of  a  thousand  or  more  paintings,  where 
one  kills  the  other. 

It  is  the  present  age,  where  those  in  automobiles  look 
over  the  shoulder  at  the  pedestrian,  who  rejoices  in  every 
blade  of  grass,  every  blossom,  every  form  of  life;  and  who 
would  like  to  linger  for  hours  or  forever  because  the  exercise 
promotes  the  healthy  action  of  his  body,  and  he  worships  his 
God  in  the  woods  and  fields.  In  our  day  of  the  automobile 
and  the  aeroplane,  all  the  refinement  of  music  vanishes  from 
the  ear,  all  the  separate  glories  of  nature  from  the  eye  and 
the  heart;  to  the  new  age  the  old  is  a  stranger,  that,  just 
because  of  its  individual  value,  was,  is,  and  always  will  be  so 
much  more  beautiful. 

I  saw  Mahler  again  and  for  the  last  time  at  Munich,  in 
1910,  when  he  led  his  eighth  symphony;  Riezl  and  I  had  gone 
thither  especially  for  it.  Mahler  had  aged  greatly,  and  I 
was  positively  alarmed.  His  work,  that  was  given  with  the 


Grunewald,   1889  391 

aid  of  a  thousand  performers,  sounded  as  though  it  came 
from  one  instrument  and  one  throat.  I  was  painfully  moved 
by  the  second  part  of  the  symphony,  that  is  based  on  the 
second  part  of  Faust.  I  cannot  say  whether  it  was  his  music, 
his  appearance,  a  presentiment  of  death,  Goethe's  words,  the 
recollections  of  Schumann,  or  my  youth — I  only  know  that  I 
was  dissolved  in  emotion  during  the  entire  second  part  and 
could  not  control  myself.  When  I  went  to  him,  the  next 
morning,  to  greet  him,  and  met  him  surrounded  by  a  crowd 
of  people,  he  was  amiability  itself,  went  after  Riezl,  who 
had  waited  for  me  below,  and  brought  her  up  himself,  and 
would  not  let  us  leave.  Then  came  his  fearful  fate,  his 
terrible  illness  and  death!  It  was  most  painfully  affecting! 

Many  bright  pictures  pass  before  me  as  I  open  the  pages 
of  my  diary,  and  I  would  like  to  linger  over  them.  But  I 
must  turn  the  leaves,  if  I  am  to  reach  the  goal  that  is  set  in 
this  book.  I  cannot  pass  by  Paris,  that  is  framed  in  few 
memories,  without  mentioning  Charles  Lamoureux.  He 
was  not  a  great  musician,  but  one  to  be  taken  seriously, 
especially  so  for  Paris,  that  owed  him  much,  where  so  many 
play  and  bluster  that  have  no  justification  for  it.  Lamoureux 
had  nothing  in  common  with  them ;  he  made  music  from  the 
depths  of  his  being,  and  felt  a  profound  contempt  for  the 
public,  the  press,  and  the  incompetents.  He  summoned  me 
for  three  Sunday  concerts  in  February,  1891,  which  took 
place  at  the  Cirque  d'Ete,  because  Paris  neither  then  nor 
now  possesses  a  hall  for  orchestral  concerts.  At  the  Cirque 
d'  Ete  it  smelt  as  it  does  at  the  Cirque  d'Hiver  and  at  every 
other  circus,  and  only  Lamoureux's  care  and  sense  of  clean- 
liness made  it  possible  to  stay  there. 

Shortly  before  my  appearance  there,  Amalie  Materna 
had  sung  Wagner  in  German,  but  she  was  obliged  to 
"enunciate  indistinctly."  I  sang  everything,  even  an  aria, 
in  German,  but  I  spoke  very  clearly,  and  was  convinced  that 
no  one  would  think  of  making  any  objection,  as  the  concerts 


392  My  Path  Through  Life 

were  attended  only  by  the  elite  of  Paris.  Lamoureux  would 
not  permit  me  to  repeat  Wagner's  Trdume.  "Do  not  make 
such  concessions  to  this  audience,"  he  said,  from  fear  lest 
some  unmannerly  person  might  rise  against  Wagner.  He 
informed  me  that  it  was  due  only  to  the  Parisian  publishers 
of  national  compositions  that  the  admission  of  Wagner  had 
hitherto  been  frustrated  and  the  Chauvinism  of  the 
French  had  been  stimulated,  so  that  they  might  be  protected 
from  loss.  Concerning  the  r6pertoire  of  the  Grand  Opera 
House,  and  the  performances  there,  he  said  merely,  "It  is 
shameful!" 

One  evening  I  was  at  his  house,  together  with  his  son-in- 
law,  Chevillard,  Chabriard,  and  several  other  musicians, 
and  I  sang  for  them  the  first  act  of  Tristan.  I  still  hear 
Lamoureux  crying  out,  "Ah,  c'est  du  fer,  du  fer!"  Such  an 
exhibition  of  power  could  not  be  expected,  of  course,  from 
the  French  women  singers.  After  they  had  behaved  for  a  time 
as  though  they  were  crazy,  Lamoureux,  who  saw  my  amaze- 
ment, enquired,  "What  do  you  think  of  it,  Madame  Leh- 
mann?  "  to  which  I  could  reply  only  "  Dalldorf , " — explaining 
that  Dalldorf  was  Berlin's  institution  for  lunatics,  and  they 
all  seemed  eligible  for  it.  But  even  the  "Insane  Asylum" 
could  not  restrain  the  tremendous  enthusiasm  of  such 
temperamental  musicians  of  this  race  and  they  broke  loose 
entirely.  At  the  next  two  concerts,  I  sang,  each  time,  a 
classical  German  aria,  and  the  Tristan  duet  without  cuts 
with  Paul  Kalisch,  that  lasted  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  but, 
nevertheless,  was  received  with  thunderous  applause. 
Lamoureux  was  the  only  person,  at  that  time,  who  could 
make  such  a  venture ;  he  compelled  the  Parisians  to  be  punc- 
tual, for  he  closed  the  doors  and  allowed  no  one  to  enter  dur- 
ing the  performance  of  a  number,  a  thing  which  had 
never  been  heard  of  before. 

He  had  assembled  a  splendid  orchestra  that  he  ruled  with 
unremitting  severity,  and  I  have  never  heard  the  overture  to 
the  Zauberflote  given  in  such  a  f  airylike  manner  by  any  other 


Grunewald,   1 889  393 

orchestra  as  by  this  one.  He  fought,  in  the  same  unyield- 
ing way,  against  the  bad  habits  and  the  superficiality  of 
both  the  French  artists  and  the  public.  They  were  struggles 
that  he  thus  summed  up, "  Je  vous  assure,  Madame  Lehmann, 
il  faut  e"tre  fou  comme  moi  de  la  musique  pour  faire.  des  con- 
certs a  Paris! "  But  we  are  reaping  to-day  the  benefit  of  his 
battles  for,  even  at  Paris,  respect  has  been  acquired  for 
German  music  and  German  seriousness.  I  often  sang  at 
the  Lamoureux  concerts,  and  my  opinion  of  his  worth  was 
constantly  increased,  and  my  grateful  memory  of  him  ever 
more  assured.' 

With  the  exception  of  Sarah  Bernhardt,  whom  I  knew 
personally  in  America,  and  who  always  forced  renewed  ad- 
miration from  me,  only  the  environs,  in  the  richest  measure, 
could  make  up  to  me  for  the  deprivation,  in  the  city,  of  quiet 
and  earnestness.  My  pleasure  in  wonderful  Paris  was  spoiled 
for  me  by  the  cosmetics  and  refined  adornment  that  have 
steadily  increased  in  madness  up  to  date,  the  late  nocturnal 
life,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  and  I  comprehend  to-day  that 
only  there  could  Wagner  write  his  Parisian  "  Bacchanale, " 
which  gives  a  true  picture  of  the  titillation  of  the  senses  in 
which  the  Parisians  pass  their  lives. 

At  Berlin,  I  met  by  chance  Dr.  Bischof,  the  legal  counsel 
for  the  royal  theatres,  who  congratulated  me.  "What  for?" 
"  You  are  free ! "  "How  is  that?  "  "Why,  don't  you  know? 
The  Emperor  has  written,  concerning  your  letter,  that  he 
thinks  the  punishment  is  too  severe.  I  am  surprised  that 
you  have  not  been  informed."  No,  I  was  still  kept  waiting 
a  long  time  until,  in  order  to  convince  myself  of  the  truth,  I 
made  enquiries  in  person  of  Count  Hochberg.  I  was  actually 
free!  What  must  the  Emperor  have  thought  of  me  that  I 
had  not  expressed  my  thanks,  when  the  matter  had  so  long 
been  settled?  I  never  learned  the  true  inwardness  of  it,  and 
I  think  that  it  was  never  officially  announced  to  me. 

Jahn  secured  me,  at  once,  for  seven  star  appearances  at 


394  My  Path  Through  Life 

Vienna,  and  then  we  moved  into  our  Grunewald  home  at  the 
end  of  March,  to  which  I  have  remained  true  for  twenty-two 
years,  and  where  I  have  been  very  happy  in  my  surround- 
ings, contrary  to  Niemann's  prediction  that  I  should  not 
hold  out  there  for  a  month. 

Engel-Kroll,  recently  deceased,  sought  me  out  after  the 
breaking  of  my  contract,  to  secure  me  for  his  summer  season 
of  opera,  and  coaxed  me,  as  though  I  were  a  sick  horse,  with 
the  promise  that,  in  case  I  would  pledge  myself  to  sing  for  him, 
he  would  get  me  my  freedom.  I  simply  replied  that  he  might 
try  it  first,  and  then  we  would  proceed  farther.  "  I  know, "  he 
answered,  "that  I  will  set  you  free,  and  that  then  you  will 
refuse  to  sing  for  me."  I  would  not  contradict  him,  the 
matter  fell  through,  and  old  Engel  died  without  seeing  the 
fulfillment  of  his  wish.  "At  my  place  the  green  trees  are  the 
whole  thing, "  he  used  to  reply,  when  any  one  complained  of 
the  poor  pay.  "When  the  weather  is  bad,  though  Patti  is 
singing  for  me,  not  a  soul  will  go  in,  while  in  good  weather, 
Fraulein  Quitsch-Quatsch  from  Nowhere,  who  trills  on  the 
third,  may  sing,  and  the  house  will  be  sold  out.  You  may  take 
my  word  for  it,  all  depends  at  my  place  on  the  green  trees ! " 

His  son  now  took  over  his  inheritance.  Patti  and  many 
others  were  feted  there  as  stars,  and,  on  the  assurance  of 
the  young  Engel  couple  that  they  could  give  anything  on 
their  "noodle"  boards,  an  engagement,  comprising  nine 
appearances,  really  took  place,  shared  in  by  Paul  Kalisch, 
my  sister,  and  d'Andrade.  The  legend  originating  in  the 
customs  of  the  ancient  country  parties  in  the  suburbs  of 
Berlin:  "Families  may  make  coffee  here,"  was  paraphrased 
by  my  husband  to  read:  "Families  may  sing  operas  here." 
Paul  Kalisch's  wit  flourished  during  this  engagement,  as 
many  funny  scenes  happened  behind  the  curtain,  together 
with  the  seriousness  of  the  often  excellent  representations  of 
Fidelia,  Norma,  the  Judin,  Don  Juan,  and  Lucrezia.  But 
there  was  also  much  to  laugh  at  outside  of  the  theatre,  even 
though  tears  were  nearer  to  one's  eyes. 


Grunewald,   1889  395 

Young  Engel,  Kroll's  heir,  did  not  take  account  of 
national  mourning  in  his  business,  though  it  touched  us 
closely  enough,  indeed,  for  just  then  there  was  no  less  a 
figure  in  consideration  than  Moltke,  the  great  silent  man, 
who  was  being  carried  to  his  long  rest.  We  were  driving 
that  day,  in  house  dress,  to  Kroll's  to  sing  the  opera  of 
Norma,  but  we  were  not  allowed  to  go  through  the  Tiergarten 
with  the  carriage  from  any  point,  as  it  was  closed  because  of 
the  funeral  procession,  that  passed  by  way  of  the  Konigs- 
platz.  Paul  Kalisch  finally  got  out  to  treat  with  the  mounted 
policeman,  who,  however,  would  not  be  treated  with,  and 
who  opposed  our  further  progress  in  the  most  positive  way. 
We  should  have  to  alight  and  walk.  Paul  Kalisch  explained 
to  the  "man  on  horseback"  that  that  was  impossible  as 
follows:  "The  ladies  are  painted;  my  wife  has  on  a  short 
red  and  white  dress  made  of  feathers,  as  she  is  to  sing 
Papagena,  and  if  she  is  obliged  to  go  through  the  military 
lines  that  way  there  will  be  a  fearful  scandal. "  The  deluded 
horseman  admitted  this,  and,  at  his  word  of  command,  the 
ranks  of  the  soldiers  opened  to  us,  as  did  the  gates  of  that 
temple  of  the  Muses  called  "Kroll's  Establishment." 


America 
1891-1892 

EXTRACT    FROM    LIVE    MUSICAL    TOPICS 

"  TT  would  not  do  to  dismiss  the  company  from  this  preliminary 
1  consideration  without  mention  of  her,  whose  name  is  and 
ever  will  be  dear  to  the  music  lovers  of  New  York.  To  Lilli 
Lehmann  every  admirer  of  true  lyric  art  can  lift  his  brimming 
cup  with  Siegfried's  words: 

'Vergass  ich  alles, 

Was  du  mir  gabst, 

Von  einer  Lehre 

Liess  ich  doch  nie: 

Den  ersten  Trunk 

Zu  treuer  Minne, 

Brunnhilde,  bring  ich  Dir.'  " 

(The  New  York  Times, 
Sunday,  December  13,  1890.) 

The  above-quoted  clipping,  that  gave  me  no  small 
pleasure,  was  sent  to  me  from  America  in  an  artistic  setting, 
about  Christmastide  in  1890. 

What  I  had  foretold  had  come  to  pass.  The  public, 
surfeited  with  the  everlasting  Wagner  operas,  demanded  a 
change  in  the  repertoire,  and  the  management  for  the 
coming  season  was  given  over,  in  the  spring  of  1891,  to  the 
celebrated  impresario,  Maurice  Grau,  who,  though  a 

396 


America,   1891-1892  397 

stranger  to  me,  offered  me  excellent  contracts,  which  both 
Paul  Kalisch  and  I  accepted. 

Grau  began  in  Chicago  on  November  26th, — where  we 
usually  closed — with  Norma,  Mignon,  Don  Juan,  the  Trou- 
badour and  Aida,  and  had  with  him  as  members  of  the  com- 
pany, Jean  and  Edouard  de  Reszke,  Lasalle,  Mesdames 
Ravogli,  Scalchi,  myself,  and  Paul  Kalisch,  who  sang  all  the 
lyric  roles. 

It  was  December  i6th  before  we  opened  the  season  in 
New  York  with  tremendous  success.  Jean  and  Edouard — 
as  they  were  called  for  short — were  at  the  height  of  their 
powers,  and  both  were  artists  such  as  can  no  longer  be  found, 
and  soon  became  the  favourites  of  the  American  public.  In 
respect  to  purity  of  tone  and  nobility,  Jean  was  musically  the 
only  one  of  his  kind,  and  never  before  nor  since  have  I  ever 
heard  anything  like  him.  His  voice  was  not  powerful,  but 
very  beautiful,  and  his  singing  was  full  of  artistic  proportion. 
He  did  not  equal  the  foremost  Germans,  however,  either  in 
expression  or  as  an  actor,  but  it  was  always  a  perfect  delight 
to  hear  him.  The  amiable  Edouard,  a  splendid  figure  of  a 
man,  got  an  encore  with  his  glorious  bass  voice  to  the  Ana- 
baptist (Zacharias)  aria,  in  the  third  act  of  the  Prophet.  And 
yet  there  is  talk  of  ungrateful  roles !  Lasalle  was  known  as 
an  excellent  baritone  from  Paris,  and  Madame  Ravogli  as  a 
very  good  contralto.  It  is  not  strange  that  the  public  was 
interested  in  all  this  new  material,  and  that  the  Italian  opera 
party  got  the  ascendency  over  the  German,  as  the  latter  had 
dominated  the  former  not  a  very  long  time  previously,  but 
the  same  old  mistake  was  made  again,  too  much  being 
always  given  of  either  one  or  the  other. 

Care  was  taken,  also,  that  the  trees  should  not  grow  too 
high.  A  production  in  German  of  the  Walkure,  with  Anton 
Seidl  and  Emil  Fischer,  neither  of  whom  belonged  to  the 
company,  was  to  take  place  in  February,  and  we  all  rejoiced 
in  bringing  about  a  new  triumph  for  German  art.  But  the 
furious  beating  of  my  heart  began  to  cause  me  serious  alarm. 


398  My  Path  Through  Life 

I  did  not  mention  it,  but  I  had  been  sleepless  for  weeks,  and 
all  night  long  I  walked  incessantly  up  and  down  my  room. 
My  eyes  would  close  wherever  I  was,  I  had  attacks  of  con- 
vulsive weeping  over  the  least  thing,  and  dragged  myself 
about  only  by  exerting  all  my  energy. 

L'Africaine,  in  Italian,  with  Jean  and  me,  was  appointed 
for  February  15,1 892,  before  the  Walkure.  I  sang  the  part  of 
Selika  for  the  first  time,  having  worked  it  out  most  assiduously, 
and  I  required  only  one  rehearsal  with  piano  on  the  stage, 
at  which  Jean  and  Lasalle  appeared.  During  its  progress, 
I  became  suddenly  so  pale  that  Jean  urged  me  to  leave  the 
opera-house,  and  he  took  me  to  my  hotel,  where,  soon  after, 
I  collapsed  in  a  flood  of  tears.  I  heard  some  one  near  me 
say,  "She  is  only  acting. "  The  next  evening,  by  summoning 
all  my  powers,  I  sang  the  part  of  the  African,  whose  im- 
molation of  herself  was  not  much  greater  than  mine. 

A  physician  had  to  be  called  to  me  at  night,  forty-eight 
hours  later.  I  had  again  the  feeling  of  dissolution  in  the 
universe,  as  I  had  had  it  on  high  mountains.  I  was  not  able 
to  turn  myself  in  bed.  This  time  nitroglycerine  and  camphor 
kept  me  from  this  letting  go  that  without  pain  or  trouble 
seemed  so  glorious  to  me.  After  some  days,  my  body  strove 
of  itself  to  gain  strength,  which  was  manifested  by  nervous 
and  unappeasable  hunger.  It  is  worth  while  to  make  a  close 
examination  of  what  is  needed,  or  perhaps  one  should  say 
demanded,  by  a  body  that  has  been  exhausted  by  nervous 
strain,  for  a  recovery  of  its  normal  powers.  Two  beefsteaks, 
from  four  to  six  eggs,  fruit,  and  compote  were  given  me  every 
day  to  eat,  and  a  bottle  of  beef  tea,  three  spoonfuls  of  cham- 
pagne and  cognac  daily  to  drink,  all  of  which  I  took  eagerly 
for  months  before  I  could  talk  again  of  feeling  replete.  After- 
wards, I  called  my  illness,  "an  attack  of  gluttony."  I  was 
overwhelmed  with  delicacies  of  every  kind,  and  with  the 
most  superb  fruit  and  flowers. 

I  lay  in  bed  for  three  weeks,  almost  without  stirring.  The 
physician  thought  I  had  some  fat  about  the  heart,  said  I 


America,   1891-1892  399 

should  take  great  care  of  myself,  and  return  to  Europe  as 
soon  as  I  was  able ;  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  wanted  to  be  rid 
of  me.  I  could  not  bear  to  see  or  to  listen  to  any  one,  and 
even  the  doctor,  who  had  not  the  least  idea  of  the  state  of 
my  head,  made  me  very  nervous  by  his  manner  of  talking. 
I  was  worried  by  the  fear  of  having  heart  trouble,  and,  for  a 
long  time,  I  did  not  venture  to  undertake  anything.  At 
length  we  engaged  our  passage  on  the  Elbe  for  March  I2th, 
with  the  unexpressed  thought  that  I  should  certainly  not 
be  fit  to  travel  then.  Of  the  Fischers  I  heard  only  that  poor 
Rosa  had  met  with  an  accident  and  lay  ill,  for  she  had  fallen 
through  a  coal-hole,  and  had  suffered  severe  internal  injuries. 
Though  I  had  seen  no  one,  I  had  not  the  heart  to  leave  with- 
out saying  good-bye  to  her.  So  the  day  before  our  departure 
we  drove  thither,  my  first  trip  from  my  sick-bed.  Through 
all  her  suffering  she  was  as  tragi-comic  as  ever.  She  told  us 
about  her  fall,  and  how  her  "  Murrfl  "  (her  husband),  instead 
of  protecting  her,  had  given  her  the  death  thrust.  Emil 
laughed  big  tears  again,  and  with  one  eye  we  laughed  with 
him,  and  with  the  other  wept  with  her.  Poor  Rosl !  we  never 
saw  her  again.  The  next  day  we  embarked,  and  had  a 
glorious  journey,  during  which  I  felt  so  well  that  I  had  to 
ask  myself  repeatedly  if  I  really  had  trouble  with  my  heart. 

But  it  was  otherwise  when  I  reached  home.  As  soon  as  I 
saw  acquaintances,  or  even  if  any  one  of  my  family  appeared, 
the  old  misery  returned.  I  preferred,  therefore,  to  remain 
alone,  and  slowly  and  painfully  gathered  my  forces  together 
again.  In  this  solitude,  and  often  having  in  mind  thoughts 
of  death,  I  wrote  down  my  whole  life  story  with  the  rapidity 
of  the  wind. 

My  memory  worked  with  extreme  concentration.  When, 
after  twenty  years,  I  began  afresh  the  writing  of  this  book 
from  my  recollections,  I  noticed  that  I  made  use  of  the  same 
words  for  everything  as  I  did  then,  and  that  I  had  remem- 
bered the  tiniest  circumstance  that  had  transpired  in  our 
lives. 


400  My  Path  Through  Life 

The  condition  that  I  was  in  at  that  time  has  only  since 
been  explained  to  me  by  my  highly  esteemed  friend,  Council- 
lor Dr.  Schweninger,  and  my  present  excellent  family 
physician,  Dr.  Wilhelm  Wernecke,  both  of  whom  found  my 
heart  perfectly  sound,  and  I  am  everlastingly  indebted  to 
them  both  for  their  simple  treatment,  agreeable  to  nature. 
It  was  nothing  more  than  anaemia  of  the  brain  due  to  a  life- 
long mental  strain,  which,  recognised  in  time,  could  have 
been  avoided  or  cautiously  obviated.  The  stupendous  con- 
centration of  the  nerves  of  the  brain,  their  incessant  and 
exhausting  labour,  which  our  vocation  brings  with  it,  when, 
at  any  prescribed  moment,  our  entire  mental  and  physical 
powers  are  called  on,  sends  all  the  blood  to  the  head.  Here 
it  is  dammed  as  long  as  the  concentration  continues,  if,  as  in 
my  case,  the  heart  is  not  strong  enough  to  drive  it  through 
the  whole  body.  As  soon  as  the  nervous  system  is  relaxed, 
the  blood-vessels  suddenly  empty  themselves,  whereupon 
attacks  of  swooning  and  weakness  of  the  heart  ensue.  The 
tumultuous  beating  of  my  heart  was,  therefore,  only  a  result 
of  the  mental  over-exertion,  the  consequent  failure  of  circu- 
lation, and  was  not  a  disease.  To  prevent  such  conditions 
it  was  necessary  to  strengthen  the  action  of  the  heart,  to 
lighten  its  work,  not  by  means  of  the  use  of  digitalis,  alcohol, 
or  other  poisons,  but  by  proper  massage,  gymnastics,  walks 
in  pure  air,  good  and  moderate  nourishment,  and  all  the 
other  things  that  make  for  the  building  up  of  an  over-taxed 
body,  and  lead  to  healthy  stimulation.  Sarah  Bernhardt  has 
herself  carefully  massaged  after  each  performance,  and  no 
artist  who  sings  or  acts  great  parts  in  preponderance  should 
neglect  this. 

The  adoption  of  a  vegetarian  diet,  which  had  been  so 
often  recommended  to  me  by  Professor  Karl  Klindworth  and 
Eugen  d'Albert,  I  succeeded,  two  years  afterwards,  in  es- 
tablishing by  degrees  from  one  day  to  another,  and  even 
after  a  fortnight,  I  had  to  admit  that  there  was  an  extra- 
ordinary quieting  of  my  nerves.  I  owe  the  complete  cessa- 


America,   1891-1892  401 

tion  of  my  agitation  before  my  public  appearances  and  in 
other  affairs  of  life  to  moderate  vegetarianism;  I  became 
strong  and  healthy  again,  and  could  still  endure  exertions  in 
my  vocation  from  which  the  youngest  and  strongest  might 
shrink.  Thanks  to  vegetarianism,  Klindworth,  who  had 
suffered  for  many  years  from  a  serious  complaint,  is  now 
eighty-three  years  of  age,  and  in  complete  possession  of  his 
bodily  and  spiritual  powers. 

36 


Castle  Segenhaus— Carmen  Sylva 
Robert  Franz 

1893-1896 

A  UGUST  BUNGERT!  This  name  awakes  rich  mem- 
r\  ones  of  the  eminent  man,  the  fortunate  tone  poet,  the 
true  friend,  and  of  the  happy,  intellectual  hours  in  which  he, 
full  of  the  Homeric  spirit,  transported  us  to  other  worlds, 
intoxicating  us  with  classical  idealism,  and  the  phantasies 
of  the  Greek  epics,  in  which  he  knew  how  to  find  ever  fresh 
"unheard-of  things,"  as  he  expressed  it.  His  songs  had 
already  aroused  my  lively  interest,  and  the  words  of 
Odysseus  at  the  close  of  the  Nausicaa: 

Passing  hence,  I  perceive 

That  the  will  of  man  is  one 

With  the  divine  will.  By  renouncing, 

I  fulfil  life's  inmost  meaning! 

took  strong  hold  on  my  heart  as  he  sang  them  to  me  once. 
Who  does  not  know  the  word  Renunciation,  that,  in  my  life, 
also,  has  played  so  harsh  a  part. 

Lonely  and  alone  I  bethought  me  of  his  songs.  Should 
I  really  never  sing  again?  The  impulse  to  inner  deliverance 
was  strong  once  more,  and  triumphed  over  all  the  warnings  of 
my  physicians.  So  I  began  to  study  again,  practised  very 
softly  at  first,  then  steadily  louder,  until  I  had  become 
assured  that  my  heart  would  never  offer  resistance  to  such 

402 


Castle  Segenhaus,   1893-1896  403 

work,  though  the  nerves  of  my  head  might  often  still  be  of 
another  opinion.  By  autumn  I  had  already  prepared  a 
considerable  programme  of  Bungert's  Lieder,  which  I  wished 
to  sing  in  Dresden  on  December  3,  1892,  at  a  Bungert 
evening,  when  he  arrived  at  my  house  in  person,  on  my 
birthday,  in  order  to  present  to  me  a  small  marble  tablet 
from  Queen  Elisabeth  of  Roumania,  on  which  she,  herself, 
had  inscribed  these  verses  composed  for  me : 

Give  me  a  song,  a  ringing  song, 

By  illumining  thoughts  inspired, 
That  to  the  Olympians  might  belong 
;    Being  by  their  breathings  fired. 

Give  me  a  song  from  out  the  spring, 

Pure,  maidenly  all  'round, 
That  shall  through  woods  and  valley  ring 

In  clearest  floods  of  sound. 

And  now  a  song  from  deepest  woe 

So  heavenly  shall  ring, 
So  freed  from  sorrow  here  below 

That  angels  may  it  sing. 

Without  my  knowledge,  Bungert  had  informed  the  Queen 
that  I  proposed  to  carry  his  songs  forth  into  the  world.  The 
songs  of  a  Queen!  He  had  often  related  to  us  under  what 
unique  circumstances  they  had  originated.  As  the  friend  of 
the  Princess-Mother,  Marie  of  Wied,  of  her  children,  Prince 
Wilhelm  Adolph  and  his  wife,  Her  Royal  Highness,  Princess 
Marie  of  the  Netherlands,  and  their  children,  Bungert  lived 
for  weeks,  indeed,  months  at  a  time,  at  Castle  Segenhaus  and 
Mon  Repos,  where  Queen  Elisabeth,  also,  often  stayed  as  the 
guest  of  her  mother.  There  every  one  lived  and  moved  in 
an  atmosphere  of  art  and  science,  and  often  made  merry  with 
true  Rhenish  lightheartedness,  such  as  is  known  only  in  the 
Rhine  countries.  On  walks  and  drives,  everywhere  and  at  all 
times,  poems  and  songs  came  forth  from  the  divinely  endowed 


404  My  Path  Through  Life 

heart  of  the  royal  poetess,  which  were  given  a  musical  form 
by  Bungert, — when  he  looked  over  the  Queen's  shoulder, — • 
almost  before  they  were  written,  and  then,  before  he  had 
really  jotted  them  down,  were  taken  and  sung  by  the  dear 
young  children.  Thus,  talent,  sentiment,  and  happy  co- 
operation joined  hands  in  a  bond  of  rare  and  true  friendship 
that  stood  in  good  stead,  both  in  joy  and  sorrow,  to  all  that 
shared  its  blessing,  and  grief  and  pain  did  not  fail  to  come 
even  there. 

The  invitation  of  the  Princess-Mother  to  be  her  guest  for 
some  days  at  Castle  Segenhaus,  about  the  middle  of  January, 
1893,  was  issued  to  me,  and  Bungert  made  use  of  this  cir- 
cumstance to  inspire  me  with  enthusiasm  for  a  concert  at 
Neuwied,  where  lived  many  other  friends  of  his  besides 
the  princely  family. 

I  reached  there  early  on  the  iQth,  in  fearful  cold,  and 
learned  that  King  Carol  and  two  ministers  had  arrived  only 
a  few  minutes  ahead  of  me,  on  a  visit  to  the  Princess.  This 
unexpected  event  turned  out  splendidly  for  me.  I  stayed 
for  a  few  hours  with  the  worthy  Winz  family,  who  sheltered 
me,  without  compensation,  also  on  the  day  of  the  concert, 
as  I  could  not  have  covered  the  long  way  up  and  down  from 
the  castle  either  before  or  after  it. 

Castle  Segenhaus,  the  estate  of  the  widowed  Princess- 
Mother,  lies  high  above  the  little  city  of  Neuwied,  in  the 
mountains,  a  good  hour's  drive  away.  It  is  an  old  house, 
embowered  in  grape  vines,  roses,  and  climbing  plants.  From 
the  castle  and  the  garden  one  looks  far  down  into  the  valley 
where  the  Rhine,  like  a  "silver  ribbon, "  winds  its  way  along. 
A  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk  by  a  descending  path  leads  to  a 
large  open  space,  surrounded  by  glorious  virgin  trees,  which 
is  the  favourite  spot  of  Queen  Elisabeth, — the  "  Graves, " 
as  she  called  it,  where  rest  her  father,  whom  she  loved  be- 
yond every  one,  and  her  younger  brothers  and  sisters  next 
to  him.  Schloss  Mon  Repos  is  fifteen  minutes  above  Segen- 
haus. It  once  belonged  to  her  parents,  and  is  now  occupied 


Castle  Segenhaus,   1893-1896  405 

by  her  brother,  the  reigning  Prince,  Wilhelm  Adolph.  Elisa- 
beth spent  her  childhood  there,  and  every  tiniest  spot  con- 
cealed youthful  recollections  of  the  most  intimate  joys  of 
her  budding  years. 

Within  the  leafy  garlands  of  the  tiny  room, 
Shall  I  still  find  the  thoughts  of  yore  in  bloom? 

Elisabeth  asks  in  her  song  of  the  Rhine  called  Mon  Repos. 
Assuredly;  otherwise,  as  Carmen  Sylva,  she  would  not  have 
been  able  to  find  them  again. 

Very  early  in  the  afternoon,  I  drove  up,  with  four  horses, 
through  the  glorious  winter  landscape  to  her,  to  her!  Can 
it  surprise  any  one  that  I  should  yearn  after  the  poetess, 
whose  moods  and  sentiments  I  here  began,  for  the  first  time, 
to  understand  clearly?  Bungert  met  me  above,  and  led  me 
through  a  circular  music  hall  into  the  house,  where  I  laid 
aside  my  wraps.  I  was  then  received  by  the  once  famous, 
very  clever,  and  elegant  Bavarian  Minister  of  Finance, 
Baron  von  Roggenbach,  the  intimate  friend  of  the  house, 
and,  immediately  afterward,  the  Princess  herself  walked 
towards  me  through  the  drawing-room,  put  her  arms  about 
me  tenderly  and  kissed  me  warmly.  The  Princess,  who  was 
in  the  seventies,  with  snow-white  hair,  tall  and  slender  in 
figure  and  with  a  complexion  of  milk  and  blood,  was  dressed 
in  black.  Her  head  and  face  were  framed  in  thin  white 
material,  shaped  like  a  turban,  that  gave  her  a  fantastic 
appearance.  I  found  at  once  a  motherly  friend  in  the  Prin- 
cess, who  continued  to  be  that  to  me  in  her  wonderful  letters 
until  her  death. 

She  presented  me  to  the  King,  who  was  alone  with  her 
in  the  drawing-room,  and  whose  earnest,  handsome,  ex- 
tremely clever  countenance,  and  his  eagle  eyes,  that  nothing 
seemed  to  escape,  made  a  very  deep  impression  upon  me. 
This  man  knew  what  he  wanted ;  he  had  a  clear  perception  of 
his  duties  as  individual  and  monarch,  and  his  whole  being 


406  My  Path  Through  Life 

was  the  personification  of  seriousness.  He  had  come  up  for 
a  stay  of  only  four  days,  and  was  most  kind  to  me;  indeed 
every  one  up  there  was  overflowing  with  unconstrained 
goodness  towards  me. 

We  were  absorbed  in  interesting  conversation,  when  the 
doors  opened,  and  the  Queen,  announced  by  Countess  S — , 
was  pushed  in,  seated  in  a  rolling  chair.  My  heart  beat  hard 
at  this  agitating  moment  of  a  first  meeting  with  this  rare 
woman.  But  she  addressed  me  at  once,  and  I  bowed  over 
her  chair  and  kissed  her  lovely  hands.  We  both  remained 
silent  for  quite  a  while.  Then  she  spoke  kind  words  to  me, 
and  a  ray  of  light  shone  from  her  eyes,  and  from  her  beautiful 
smile  that  brightened  everything  about  her.  There  is  also 
something  soaring  in  her  gait,  as  I  perceived  later,  something 
"transparent"  in  the  nature  of  this  Queen,  who  has  learned 
so  little  how  to  dissemble  before  the  world,  and  who  prefers 
to  show  herself  as  she  is.  All  her  songs  of  the  Rhine  danced 
before  my  eyes.  "Hurrah,  the  Rhine!"  Every  word  in 
them,  every  picture  that  her  eyes  had  seen — as  I  now  saw 
them  at  this  place,  and  learned  to  understand  them  in  this 
environment — expressed  her  very  self  as  it  welled  up  from  her 
heart — she  and  the  Rhine ! 

Though  the  times  were  no  longer  quite  so  serene  as  once 
when  high  spirits  and  joyousness  held  the  reins,  yet  there  was 
almost  an  excess  of  glorious  incitements  amongst  these 
remarkable  personages.  The  Queen  was  not  well,  needing 
rest  and  diversion  in  a  beneficial  sense,  and  in  this  home 
circle  everything  revolved  about  the  health  of  this  woman 
who  was  so  beloved  by  all.  She  had  endured  many  disap- 
pointments that  she  could  not  escape  because  of  her  noble 
trust,  given  to  all  persons  who  pleased  her,  and  she  suffered 
just  so  much  more  profoundly  than  any  other  would  have 
done  from  these  experiences.  She  was  often  so  dejected 
that  she  no  longer  desired  to  live,  and,  at  such  times,  she 
gave  herself  up  so  completely  to  the  apathy  of  her  condition 
that  it  was  difficult  to  cheer  her.  But  when  such  efforts 


Castle  Segenhaus,   1893-1896  407 

succeeded  she  could  walk  well,  was  happy  and  sunny  and 
made  every  one  happy  about  her,  as  was  her  way.  How 
much  this  woman  had  already  created!  To  compose 
poetry  was  to  her  what  flying  is  to  the  bird.  She  had  just 
painted  wonderful  pages  in  Byzantine  patterns  and  colours 
for  church  books,  and  had  written  her  enchanting  poems  of 
youth  on  the  finest  sheets  of  ivory.  Aphorisms  flowed  from 
her  pen  as  do  tones  from  my  throat.  She  did  superb  needle- 
work, and  her  head  and  hands  were  untiring,  as  one  talent's 
luxuriance  crowded  upon  another.  Could  there  fail  to  be  a 
reaction  occasionally?  Everything  that  love  could  devise 
to  make  her  well  and  happy  again  was  done  by  the  Princess- 
Mother  and  the  King,  who  adored  her,  and  who  had  hastened 
thither  in  order  to  see  her.  And  she  was  certainly  on  the 
road  to  improvement.  She  had  begun  to  take  interest  again 
in  her  toilette,  and  had  ordered  a  special  dress  for  the  concert, 
one  that  could  not  be  beautiful  and  splendid  enough  for  that 
event  to  satisfy  her. 

After  the  Princess  had  installed  me  in  my  two  comfort- 
able little  rooms,  and  I  had  rested  awhile,  the  whole  family 
assembled,  towards  evening,  in  the  circular  music  hall,  where 
I,  accompanied  by  Bungert,  wished  to  sing  for  them  some  of 
our  songs.  King  Carol,  who  was  no  musician  in  any  real 
sense,  and  who  had  never  heard  any  of  the  Queen's  poems, 
not  to  mention  the  songs,  had  not  been  troubled  with  an 
invitation  to  the  little  soiree.  So  much  the  more  were  we 
surprised,  when  he  requested  that  we  would  wait  a  moment 
and  not  begin  the  concert  until  he  was  there.  After  he  had 
appeared  we  began  with  "Hurrah!"  (on  the  bridge  at 
Mayence).  The  Queen  laughed  and  wept  and  sobbed, 
leaning  against  me,  when  I  had  finished  and  kneeled  before 
her  in  deep  emotion.  She  whispered  softly  to  me,  "I  feel  as 
though  I  had  been  dead,  and  now  were  alive  again!"  Any- 
thing better  than  that  we  did  not  desire.  After  I  had 
sung  eight  songs,  to  all  of  which  the  King  had  listened, 
he  was  very  enthusiastic,  and  repeatedly  invited  Bungert 


408  My  Path  Through  Life 

and  me  to  go  to  Bucharest  and  to  give  musicales  at  the 
palace. 

The  very  delightful  dinner  at  seven  o'clock  brought  us 
together  again,  at  which  the  otherwise  very  serious  King 
was  in  a  bright  mood,  and  was  amused  by  many  stories  that 
I  told  of  America.  The  two  ministers,  who  were  present  at 
dinner,  left  that  night,  and  the  Queen,  also,  withdrew  after 
the  end  of  the  meal,  as  she  was,  in  fact,  very  much  exhausted. 
So  was  I,  in  spite  of  the  merry  mood  that  I  seldom  knew  at 
that  time.  I  do  not  know  how  I  was  able  to  sleep  that  night, 
after  the  kind  Princess  had  conducted  me  to  my  room. 

The  day  began  for  the  Princess  earlier  than  for  us.  About 
six  o'clock  she  held  a  short  service  of  worship,  with  her 
servants  assembled  about  her,  and  issued  her  orders  for  the 
day.  At  eight  o'clock  there  was  the  general  breakfast,  in 
which,  however,  their  Majesties  did  not  participate,  as  the 
Queen  had  to  remain  in  bed  until  eleven  o'clock;  I  was 
permitted  to  spend  a  full  hour  with  her.  Three  feet  of  snow 
had  fallen  during  the  night,  nevertheless,  the  Queen  wished 
to  go  with  us  to  the  "Graves."  She  was  seated  in  a  sleigh, 
Bungert  walked  beside  her,  and  King  Carol  and  I  waded 
behind  through  deep  snow.  My  admiration  for  the  quiet 
authority  of  the  man  steadily  increased.  He  had  found 
heavy  tasks  awaiting  him  when  he  assumed  the  government, 
and  he  had  not  been  idle.  He  had  learned  enough  of  the 
unworthiness  of  men  in  three  horrible  wars,  and  he  said: 
"All  Kings  should  be  forced  to  go  through  war  like  common 
soldiers,  then  no  more  of  it  would  take  place. " 

When  he  courted  Elisabeth,  he  asked  her,  if  she  would 
work  with  him,  to  which  she  gladly  agreed.  The  Queen 
has  often  told  me  how  poor  they  were  when  they  assumed  the 
regency,  that  is,  in  what  narrow  circumstances.  What 
difference  did  it  make?  Work,  the  education  of  men,  the 
fostering  of  the  arts,  the  sacrifice  of  themselves  to  their 
duties  were  the  aim  and  desire  of  them  both.  Whatever  was 
begun  by  the  Queen  in  her  striving  after  the  ideal,  for  in- 


Castle  Segenhaus,   1893-1896  409 

stance,  the  city  for  the  blind,  the  cultivation  of  the  silkworm, 
the  King,  after  brief  trial  terms,  took  affectionately  under  his 
protection  by  making  government  institutions  of  all  that  she 
had  called  into  existence,  and,  in  this  way,  both  have  raised 
to  themselves  imperishable  monuments  in  the  hearts  of  their 
people. 

The  King,  moreover,  knows  Berlin  thoroughly,  and  was 
well  acquainted  with  Father  Kalisch.  It  was  a  great  pity 
that  Paul  Kalisch  could  not  accept  the  invitation  that  had 
been  sent  to  him,  also. 

At  the  farm  buildings  deer  stood  by  the  stable  doors  and 
begged  for  food.  How  gladly  would  I  have  run  and  thrown 
a  bundle  of  hay  out  to  them.  But  I  made  use  of  the  moment 
to  entreat  King  Carol,  very  earnestly,  to  take  up  the  cause 
of  the  poor  animals  in  Roumania,  also,  and,  when  oppor- 
tunity presented  itself,  to  discuss  and  advocate  this  with  our 
Emperor.  King  Carol  gave  me  his  promise,  and  I  think  he 
kept  it. 

The  concert  took  place  in  the  coach-house  of  the  Prince. 
Fifty  equipages  were  removed,  five  gas  stoves  were  put  in, 
everything  was  covered  with  thick  carpets,  and  so  a  concert 
room  was  made,  worthy  of  a  royal  visitor  and  of  our  artistic 
fraternity.  Only  Prince  Wilhelm,  the  creator  of  this  sump- 
tuous arrangement,  who  had  recently  been  very  ill,  and  who 
now  sought  health  in  Italy,  had  to  remain  away  from  the 
festival.  As  a  substitute,  his  wife  had  already  come  to  our 
rehearsal,  and  expressed  to  me,  in  one  word,  "  Monumental! " 
what  she  felt. 

I  should  have  liked  to  have  said  something  similar  to  this 
tall,  slight  woman,  who  said  little,  whose  face  was  lacking  in 
beauty  but  expressive  of  boundless  goodness,  and  who  was  a 
"Royal  Highness, "  both  inwardly  and  outwardly.  We  were 
happy  in  meeting  again  at  Paris,  about  1900,  at  the  German 
Ambassador's,  Prince  Munster,  who,  unasked,  sought  me  out 
there,  and,  as  he  put  it,  "built  up"  for  a  dinner  party  the 
princely  family  for  me  and  me  for  them.  Then  deep  woe 


4io  My  Path  Through  Life 

rapidly  came  upon  her,  and  yet,  transfigured,  she  smiled  at 
those  around  her  and  at  her  dear  children,  as  we  found  each 
other  again  at  Wiesbaden,  and  the  children  played  uproar- 
iously about  her.  How  pale  she  was,  and  how  white  her 
hair  had  become,  when  I  met  her  for  the  last  time,  and  her 
fine  personality  and  feeling  reminded  me  of  my  mother.  I 
think  she  knew  how  I  revered  her,  and  that  I  should  never 
forget  her. 

Beaming  faces  and  happy  hearts  were  the  product  of  the 
evening,  and  Queen  Elisabeth  had  always  fresh  laurels  for 
me,  that  belonged  equally  to  her  and  to  Bungert,  however,  as 
did  the  enthusiasm  of  the  audience.  The  King,  with  his  arm 
on  the  back  of  Elisabeth's  chair,  listened  reverently,  and  he 
was  most  pleased  by  two  of  the  most  difficult  songs. 

We  were  united  again  the  next  morning.  After  breakfast, 
bread  was  cut  up  for  the  hungry  little  birds,  for  whom  big 
bowlfuls  were  placed  in  front  of  the  window.  At  five  o'clock, 
King  Carol  said  farewell  to  the  Queen,  and  urged  her  to 
follow  him  soon.  He  gave  renewed  invitations  to  Bungert 
and  me,  and  hurried  away  to  Bucharest,  accompanied  to  the 
station  by  the  Princess-Mother.  I  could  not  sleep  at  all  that 
night ;  it  had  been  too  much  for  me,  and  the  morning  found 
me  quite  unable  to  rise.  As  I  did  not  obey  the  summons  to 

breakfast,  Countess  S ,  was  sent  to  fetch  me,  but  I  had 

to  beg  her  to  excuse  me.  Five  minutes  later,  the  Princess- 
Mother  knelt  by  my  bedside,  held  my  hands  tightly  in  hers 
for  fully  twenty  minutes,  and  strove  to  deliver  me  from  my 
wretched  state  by  "sympathy."  She  had  poor  success  as 
I  was  not  a  medium,  but  I  forced  myself,  at  last,  to  get  up,  as 
I  had  to  go  to  Cologne  that  afternoon,  where  our  concert  was 
announced  for  the  next  day.  I  was  nursed  and  coddled  like 
a  sick  child  until  I  departed,  and  I  took  with  me  a  crowd  of 
impressions  such  as  only  rarely  are  offered  to  any  one  in 
fulness. 

The  October  moon  already  led  Bungert  and  me  to  a 
second  concert  at  Neuwied,  as  guests  at  Castle  Segenhaus. 


Castle  Segenhaus,   1893-1896  411 

It  was  quite  different  there.  The  Queen  had  changed  greatly ; 
pleasure  in  life  sparkled  again  in  her  eyes,  and  she,  in  com- 
pany with  the  dear  Princess-Mother,  planned  glorious  days 
for  us.  As  my  arrival  was  delayed  an  hour,  I  failed  to  meet 
the  newly  married  Roumanian  heir  to  the  throne  and  his 
wife,  who  had  just  paid  the  Queen  a  visit.  The  pretty, 
sixteen-year-old  Princess  was  already  convinced  that  "men 
must  be  kept  occupied,  in  order  to  prevent  their  indulging  in 
foolishness." 

In  January,  1896,  Paul  Kalisch,  also,  was  at  last  able  to 
obey  the  many  times  repeated  invitation  to  Castle  Segen- 
haus, where  we  passed  two  intoxicatingly  beautiful  days. 
The  Queen,  now  completely  recovered,  read  aloud  to  us 
wonderful  French  novels  and  bright  German  articles.  She 
copied  passages  for  me  with  her  own  hand  from  her  essays, 
The  Vocation  of  the  Artist,  which  she  subscribed  with  the 
words,  "From  Carmen  Sylva;  In  remembrance  of  the  three- 
fold interpretation  of  the  sorceress, "  by  which  she  meant  her 
song,  The  Lorelei,  composed  as  a  poem  by  her,  set  to  music 
by  Bungert,  and  sung  by  me. 

She  was  never  weary  of  hearing  us  sing,  but  she  was 
unhappy  because  we  had  not  brought  Tristan  with  us,  and  so 
could  not  render  it.  "Oh,  I  know,"  she  said  excitedly,  "I 
shall  never  enjoy  anything  more ;  everything  will  be  withheld 
from  me!"  The  cause  of  this  outbreak  was  the  Princess- 
Mother's  care,  as  she  was  always  fearful  that  the  Queen 
might  excite  herself  too  much.  My  husband,  therefore,  sang 
Cornelius  and  Jensen,  while  I  gave  some  Mozart  arias,  but 
they  took  such  hold  of  the  poor  Princess-Mother  that  she 
wept  aloud.  Most  gladly  would  we  have  responded  to  the 
Queen's  wish,  who  would  have  enjoyed  Tristan  und  Isolde 
as  no  one  else  could  have  done. 

Joy  in  living  and  joy  in  creating  had  both  returned  to  me, 
and  scarcely  had  I  prepared  the  way  in  Germany  for  the 
living  composer  of  songs,  August  Bungert,  than  I  fixed  my 


412  My  Path  Through  Life 

eyes  upon  a  second  important  task,  that  of  performing  the 
same  service  for  the  deceased  master,  Robert  Franz.  He 
had  once  been  sung,  and  propaganda  had  been  made  for 
him  by  enthusiastic  adherents  like  Senfft  von  Pilsach  and 
others  who  were  admirable  singers,  but  he  had  become  almost 
forgotten,  and  one  now  heard  here  and  there  only  his  most 
popular  songs.  By  presenting  songs  of  his  that  were  known 
and  unknown,  and  many  that  had  never  been  sung,  I  re- 
minded Germany  of  him,  conquered  Austria  and  America 
for  him,  and  finally  Paris,  also,  where  I  was  not  infrequently 
compelled  to  repeat  three  times  some  of  his  pearls  of  songs. 

His  son,  Dr.  Richard  Franz,  wrote  to  me,  after  the  first 
successes  of  this  triumphal  progress,  with  what  intrigues  his 
father  had  had  to  fight  formerly,  and  how  he  had  suffered, 
especially,  from  the  enmity  of  Carl  Reinecke.  The  ban  had 
been  first  removed  by  me  and  victory  awarded  to  his  father. 
Frankly,  I  believed  that  the  chief  reason  of  this  oblivion  lay 
more  in  the  fact  that  most  singers  regarded  Franz's  songs  as 
ungrateful.  They  certainly  require  that  they  be  sung  with 
one's  whole  soul  and  the  technique  of  a  complete  artist  to 
make  them  effective  in  their  simplicity  and  unpretentious- 
ness.  But  it  had  ever  been  my  pride  to  throw  myself 
into  whatever  seemed  unthankful  to  others,  and  to  bring 
about  the  desired  effect.  Hermann  Erler,  the  music  pub- 
lisher, sent  me,  after  the  second  Robert  Franz  evening,  the 
manuscript  of  Dies  und  Das  (This  and  That}  by  Robert 
Burns,  which  I  usually  sing  in  English,  and  which,  in  the 
original  text,  is  most  charmingly  suited  to  Franz's  music. 

Accordingly,  up  to  the  present  day,  twenty  years  have 
elapsed  in  which,  proceeding  uninterruptedly  with  my  culti- 
vation, I  have  placed  my  art  at  the  service  of  many  a  half- 
forgotten  or  still  unknown  composer,  and  have  done  my  best 
for  this  cause,  as  far  as  an  imperfect  being  may  give  his  best. 

Then,  in  1895,  I  sang  all  my  great  roles  at  Vienna,  in  the 
city  where  I  was  always  received  with  open  arms,  and,  finally, 
the  doors  of  the  Berlin  Opera  House,  also,  opened  to  me  again, 


Robert  Franz,  1893-1896  413 

although,  for  the  time  being,  only  for  a  charity  matinee  per- 
formance. Instead  of  that,  I  sang,  in  1896,  the  part  of 
Ortrud  for  the  first  time  and  the  Walkure  at  the  Wiesbaden 
May  Festival.  I  had  been  engaged  for  months  with  the 
study  of  Ortrud,  at  which  I  had  long  aimed,  and  had  grown 
completely  into  this  superb  r61e,  intending  to  bring  out, 
especially,  the  heathen  fanatic  side  of  it,  and  not  to  represent 
her  as  the  wicked  woman  that  she  is  commonly  taken  to  be, 
whereby  she  is  made  to  appear  most  unsympathetic. 

It  was  easy  to  come  to  a  splendid  agreement  with  one  of 
the  most  excellent  of  artists,  Julius  Muller,  who  sang  Telra- 
mund,  and  whom  my  husband  and  I  revered  equally  as  man 
and  artist,  and  so  the  artistic  pleasure  in  the  work  was 
assured.  The  Walkure  might  have  ended  badly.  Muller, 
as  Wotan,  in  which  he  had  again  been  very  fine,  had  already 
kissed  me  into  my  sleep  and  had  summoned  Loge,  who 
should  surround  the  mountain  with  fire,  when  shrieks  of 
terror  made  me  open  my  eyes,  and  I  saw  someone  rush 
across  the  stage  with  his  head  blazing.  At  the  same  instant, 
a  fireman  sprang  after  him,  and  tore  the  wig  from  the  burning 
Wotan,  in  whose  hair  a  spark  had  flown. 

Whoso  dreads  the  point  of  my  spear, 
Can  never  pass  through  the  fire! 

Wotan  continued  to  sing,  without  a  wig,  and  he  was  ap- 
plauded and  congratulated  by  the  audience. 

These  Wiesbaden  May  Festivals  do  not  easily  pass  from 
the  memory  of  any  one  who  has  ever  taken  part  in  them. 
The  city,  dressed  out  in  festival  array,  in  the  most  luxuriant 
splendour  of  spring  blossoms,  the  union  of  many  chosen 
artists  under  the  genial  sceptre  of  Georg  von  Hulsen,  Hans 
Richter,  and  Ernst  von  Schuch  as  conductors,  the  heralds 
who  announced  with  a  fanfare  the  entrance  of  the  Emperor 
into  the  opera-house,  the  Emperor  himself  in  his  hap- 
piest mood,  rejoicing  and  charming  every  one  about  him, 


414  My  Path  Through  Life 

combined  to  make  a  most  agreeable  picture  of  pleasure. 
Whoever,  moreover,  wandered  for  hours  amongst  the  young 
birch  forests,  as  I  did,  obtained  an  intense  enjoyment  that 
one  inscribes,  with  a  grateful  heart,  in  the  book  of  his  life. 


Lilli  Lehmann  as  Ortrud  in  Lohengrin 

From  a  photograph  taken  in  1896 


Bayreuth,  1896 
Victor  Tilgner  and  his  Mozart  Monument 

I  CAME  into  remarkable  contact  with  Bayreuth  when 
Tristan  was  to  be  produced  there  for  the  first  time.  I 
think  I  am  not  mistaken  in  believing  that  I  was  sitting  with 
Paul  Kalisch  in  the  opera-house,  while  Hans  von  Bulow  and 
Hermann  Wolf  were  in  front  of  us.  The  ballet  of  Sylvia,  by 
Delibes  was  being  given,  preceded  by  Der  Betrogene  Kadi  by 
Gluck,  for  which  Bulow  had  especially  interested  himself. 
A  young  conductor  was  at  the  desk,  who  caused  Bulow  almost 
to  pull  out  his  own  hair. 

Heinrich  Ernst  came  up  to  me  in  the  intermission  to 
congratulate  me  upon  having  been  selected  for  Isolde  at 
Bayreuth,  and  immediately  afterward  this  "fairy  tale"  was 
confirmed  to  me  by  Hans  Richter,  who  had  come  from  the 
conference  at  Bayreuth.  Other  persons  knew  from  the 
newspapers  what  had  been  kept  a  secret  from  me  until  then. 
After  waiting  several  weeks,  in  vain,  for  direct  information, 
I  enquired  of  Herr  von  Gross,  at  Bayreuth,  if  he  could  verify 
what  Richter  had  told  me.  As  I  was  just  beginning  to  pre- 
pare for  America,  I  requested  an  early  answer,  for  I  had  to 
make  my  arrangements  for  the  summer.  Gross  replied  that 
Frau  Wagner  would  write  me  herself  directly.  The  letter 
came  and  disappointment  with  it.  At  the  conference  I  had, 
indeed,  been  chosen  to  be  Isolde,  but  now  it  was  preferred 
that  I  should  take  Brangane,  of  which  I  would  certainly 
make  a  great  success.  This  I  was  obliged  to  decline,  and  I 

415 


416  My  Path  Through  Life 

wrote  Frau  Wagner  that  I  well  knew  what  I  could  make  of 
Isolde,  but  I  would  not  consent  to  be  Brangane  at  Bayreuth 
on  any  conditions,  and  I  had  only  sung  the  part  twice  at 
Berlin,  as  a  favour,  and  to  make  possible  the  production  of 
the  work  there.  I  knew,  also,  that  if  Richard  Wagner  had 
lived  I  should  have  been  the  first  and  not  the  last  in  his 
thoughts  and  his  works,  and  I,  therefore,  preferred  to  con- 
sider the  matter  settled  for  me,  as  in  fact  it  remained. 

In  the  course  of  time,  many  singers  and  others  who  were 
interested  turned  to  me  for  recommendations  to  Wahnfried, 
which  I  gave  when  I  was  willing  to  take  the  responsibility, 
and  there  always  came  a  friendly  reply  in  return  and  con- 
sideration was  given  them,  if  possible.  My  intercourse  with 
Wahnfried  was  confined  to  this  until,  in  1895,  Frau  Wagner 
sought  me  out  again  in  a  special  matter,  and,  without  a  word 
having  been  exchanged  about  it,  put  the  question  to  me  one 
day  whether  I  was  minded  to  sing  Briinhilde  in  the  Ring 
at  Bayreuth  in  1896.  Herr  von  Gross  conducted  the  negotia- 
tions in  detail  with  me  in  person.  I  was  to  sing  the  Cycle 
four  times — therefore  alone — and  be  the  only  Briinhilde. 
Although  I  never  doubted  for  a  moment  my  power  to  carry 
it  through,  yet  I  called  Herr  von  Gross's  attention  to  the 
danger  that  lay  in  the  acceptance  of  the  assumption  that  it 
was  impossible  that  I  could  be  taken  ill.  He  then  decided 
to  engage  some  one  "for  such  an  event. "  A  sum  of  money 
was  offered  me  (that  I  had  to  beg  Herr  von  Gross  to  increase 
somewhat),  and  a  free  residence,  besides,  in  a  villa  very  near 
the  theatre,  in  which  I  could  keep  house  myself,  and  so 
everything  was  arranged.  For  me — but  not  so  for  Frau 
Wagner,  who  was  not  pleased  that  I  accepted  pay,  and,  as  she 
paraphrased  it,  had  expected  of  me  more  idealism  for  Bay- 
reuth. If  it  had  been  "Wagner"  it  would  not  have  been 
lacking,  but  I  considered  excessive  idealism  out  of  place  here 
where  it  was  often  so  little  felt.  Frau  Cosima  observed,  also, 
how  much  people  were  deceived  about  the  proceeds  of  Bay- 
reuth, which,  up  till  then,  had  barely  covered  the  expenses, 


Bayreuth,   1896  417 

and  this  circumstance  had  prevented  her  from  carrying  out 
Wagner's  ardent  wish  to  place  free  tickets  at  the  disposition 
of  poor  students  and  artists.  I  did  not  want  the  money  for 
myself;  it  will  be  seen  later  on  how  I  employed  it. 

"There's  only  one  imperial  city,  and  there's  only  one 
Vienna!"  And  the  Viennese  are  pleasure-loving,  and  where 
merriment  is,  thither  a  serious  person  likes  to  go,  so  as  to  be 
benefited  by  it.  What  German  artist  does  not  enjoy  being 
really  merry,  occasionally,  in  the  circle  of  care-free,  jolly 
men  and  artists,  which  Vienna  alone  can  offer  us.  And 
there  was  one  there  who  was  all  of  that  and  now  could  no 
longer  be  so,  but  who  made  his  friends  weep,  because,  on 
April  1 6,  1897,  he  lay  on  his  deathbed — Victor  Tilgner!  Five 
days  later,  his  Mozart  monument,  that  had  given  him  many 
years  of  happy  creative  work,  was  to  be  unveiled.  We  were 
often,  during  this  time,  at  his  atelier  in  the  Schwarzenberg- 
garten,  where  he  showed  us  "his  Mozart,"  in  which  the 
"soaring  figure"  greatly  pleased  me,  and  I  was  touched  that 
Tilgner  had  brought  in  Mozart's  father,  also,  and  his  spinet. 
The  father  truly  deserved  it  on  account  of  this  son ! 

"Yes, "  he  related,  "at  first  I  did  not  wish  to  take  part  in 
the  competition,  but,  after  I  had  seen  the  designs," — he 
named  one  in  particular — "the  task  tickled  me.  I  said  to  that 
person  that  his  Mozart  was  a  royal  functionary,  but  not  the 
genius  nor  the  figure  of  light  that  he  had  to  be.  A s  an  artist, 
one  may  not  represent  people  as  they  are  seen  in  everyday  life. 
For  example,  at  the  time  that  the  Schubert  monument  was 
unveiled  in  Vienna,  there  was  only  a  single  individual  still 
alive  who  had  known  Schubert  personally.  This  man  was 
taken  by  the  sculptor  into  the  atelier  and  his  opinion  asked. 
'Good  Lord!  I  should  never  know  him;  Schubert  always 
wore  a  little  red  cap,  and  I  never  saw  him  any  other  way/  " 
"But  one  cannot  hew  out  an  artist  with  a  nightcap,"  said 
Tilgner,  and  continued,  "so  I  reflected  and  reflected  upon 
it,  and  it  was  very  difficult.  I  could  not  bring  Mozart  up  to 

27 


418  My  Path  Through  Life 

where  he  belonged,  he  remained  pecking  on  the  ground, 
until  at  last,  at  last  I  found  out  what  it  was — he  must  soar!" 
That  interested  me  intensely.  I  knew  the  yearning  and  the 
labour  involved  to  make  a  figure  "rise  up,"  that  it  might 
stand  as  a  radiant  ideal  image  beyond  the  realm  of  the  earthly, 
and  that,  thereby,  its  mission  might  be  fulfilled.  I  must  have 
fallen  into  an  artistic  ecstasy  as  Tilgner  looked  at  me  con- 
tinually. "Master,  is  that  not  a  subject  for  you?"  enquired 
my  sister,  who  noticed  Tilgner's  interest.  "Yes,  if  your 
sister  is  willing,  I  am  ready. "  But  I  was  then  not  yet  well 
enough  to  endure  the  long  sittings  of  the  "chiselling  out," 
and  I  promised  for  later  on.  I  was  to  sing  Donna  Anna  at 
the  unveiling,  which  would  have  been  the  right  and  impres- 
sive moment,  but  I  had  to  withdraw,  as  I  had  a  terrible  cold, 
and  it  grieved  me  sorely  that  I  could  not  assist  at  the  un- 
veiling of  his  dear  Mozart.  Nor  was  he  able  to  be  present, 
either.  He  was  borne  in  his  coffin,  indeed,  around  his  work, 
and,  in  that  way,  a  certain  connection  was  re-established 
between  the  dead  creator  and  his  living  ideal  figure. 

Riezl  wrote  me  then  that  Mozart  had  been  unveiled  on 
April  2 1st,  with  the  Isis  chorus,  and  she  described  how  grand 
was  the  effect  of  the  moment  when  the  wrappings  fell,  and 
Mozart  stood  forth  in  soaring  youthfulness.  She  had  wept 
for  us  both,  and  I  shed  hot  tears  as  I  read  her  letter.  We  have 
both  been  able  to  do  much  for  Mozart  because  we  have  sung 
so  much  of  his,  and  with  greater  piety  than,  perhaps,  any 
other  women  artists.  Mozart  was  our  musical  home,  and  we 
were  brought  up  in  reverent  awe  for  his  genius  and  his  works 
— every  note  by  him  was  a  sacred  thing.  And  the  power  to 
feel  this  is  a  reward  such  as  is  allotted  to  artists  in  no  other 
way.  We  sisters  laid  a  wreath  at  Mozart's  feet  with  Goethe's 
words: 

The  traces  of  my  days  on  earth 

Cannot  in  eons  pass  away. 

If  anything  ever  called  forth  my  love,  delight,  and  en- 
thusiasm, it  was  the  renascence  of  the  Nibelungen  Ring  at 


Bayreuth,    1896  419 

Bayreuth,  that  I  pictured  to  myself  as  a  festival  of  resurrec- 
tion after  a  long  period  of  inner  struggle,  of  heavy  losses  in 
life,  and,  therefore,  one  of  a  thousandfold  inmost  self-sacri- 
fice and  ideal  sentiment.  I  wished  to  let  my  Brunhilde  say 
what  I  felt ;  I  longed  to  snatch  the  others  away  on  a  flight  to 
my  high  peaks,  to  make  them  feel,  laugh,  and  weep  as  I  had 
already  felt  it  in  me  twenty  years  previously,  and  I  yearned 
to  express  it  in  this  very  place.  I  desired  to  sing  to  the 
memory  of  those  who  were  there  no  longer,  to  be  submerged 
in  my  task,  and  to  be  set  free,  artistically,  from  material 
things. 

Memories  thronged  about  me  at  once  upon  my  entrance 
at  the  Villa  Gerber,  escorted  by  Herr  von  Gross,  for  it  was 
there  that  Niemann-Siegmund  and  Betz-Wotan  had  once 
resided.  From  the  first  floor  there  was  a  view  over  the  little 
city,  and  the  gaze  could  rove  far  beyond  to  the  Fichtel- 
gebirge.  I  soon  hastened  to  the  theatre,  which  was  scarcely 
a  hundred  feet  away,  where  Frau  Cosima,  swathed  in  black, 
was  sitting  on  the  stage,  occupied  with  the  placings  of  the 
scenery  for  the  third  act  of  the  Walkiire,  Siegfried  flew 
hither  and  yon,  as  his  father  had  done  once,  the  image  of 
him  in  all  his  outer  movements. 

After  I  had  fetched  Riezl  from  the  station  at  noon,  I 
went  again  to  the  Festival  Building  about  four  o'clock,  where 
the  first  act  was  being  rehearsed  with  the  singers.  A  stone 
fell  upon  my  heart.  With  the  exception  of  Frau  Sucher 
(Sieglinde),  whose  gestures  were  very  beautiful,  I  saw  and 
heard  only  wooden  dolls,  and  I  thought,  with  sorrow,  of  the 
year  1876,  when  Niemann,  with  a  single  glance  and  breath, 
gave  the  stamp  to  the  whole  first  act. 

I  did  not  speak  to  Cosima  and  the  children  until  evening, 
when  they  all  greeted  me  with  great  cordiality.  Cosima  was 
more  cheerful  than  she  had  ever  been  before,  happy,  and 
full  of  vitality  and  energy,  which  kept  her  occupied  from 
nine  in  the  morning  to  nine  at  night  at  the  theatre.  She 
took  her  dinner  and  supper  at  the  building,  and  there  were 


420  My  Path  Through  Life 

always  individual  artists  invited  to  her  table,  which  they 
named,  significantly,  the  "Court  Table,"  and  where,  more- 
over, it  was  very  lively  and  unconstrained.  Cosima  was  not 
only  very  clever  and  well-informed,  she  had,  also,  assumed 
the  authority  of  judgment  peculiar  to  the  aristocracy,  so  that 
what  she  announced  was  accepted  as  infallible.  Wonderful 
judgments  were  the  result  of  this.  For  instance,  we  were 
discussing  one  day  the  final  scene  of  the  Gotterddmmerung, 
and  I  mentioned  Frau  Yogi's  bold  ride  to  death  as  Briin- 
hilde.  She  was  a  perfect  horsewoman,  and  usually  took  her 
own  "Grane"  with  her  on  her  visiting  engagements.  At 
the  finale,  she  unbridled  her  bareback  steed,  swung 
herself  up  on  him,  and  they  leaped  together  into  the 
burning  funeral  pyre.  Cosima  called  that  a  "circus 
trick"  that  did  not  belong  on  the  stage,  which  caused  me 
to  remark,  again,  that  Wagner  had  so  ordered  it,  and  that 
when  Brunhilde  could  do  it  the  effect  was  very  beautiful. 
But  she  would  not  agree  to  that,  and  it  did  not  come  up 
again  for  consideration,  as  I  had  promised  to  represent  the 
"bold  maiden,"  but  not  the  expert  rider  in  the  service  of 
the  cause. 

From  such  utterances,  the  astounding  knowledge  dawned 
upon  me  that  there  was  small  love  felt  for  the  artists  of  1875- 
76,  and  that  the  best  was  declared  to  be  "  quite  inadmissible." 
I  toned  down  my  brusqueness  until  I  had  learned  to  know 
the  narrowness  of  the  Bayreuth  judgment  of  that  day  in  its 
fullest  extent,  and  no  doubt  remained  how  much  it  was 
opposed  to  the  tradition  of  1875-76  and  to  Wagner  himself. 
Mottl  had  already  told  me  how  Cosima,  in  1883,  had  changed 
the  whole  of  Parsifal,  so  it  was  not  strange  that  she  had  no 
more  reverence  left  for  1876,  and  depended  solely  on  her  own 
wishes  and  taste.  Frau  Reuss-Belce  told  me  how  Cosima 
had  admonished  her  to  be  diligent,  so  as  to  study  Gutrune 
with  her,  in  which  Frau  Weckerlin  had  shone  in  1876.  But 
Frau  Weckerlin' s  personality  and  voice  were  quite  alien  to 
Gutrune,  and  no  one,  including  Wagner,  took  the  least 


Bayreuth,   1896  421 

pleasure  in  her  appearance  or  her  heavy  singing.  Cosima 
expressed  herself  in  still  stronger  eulogies  over  Fraulein 
Scheffsky's  notoriously  miserable  performance  as  Sieglinde, 
of  which  I  have  already  spoken  in  my  first  Bayreuth  chapter. 
What  should  be  said  in  reply  to  such  opinions,  and  what 
could  one  expect  from  them? 

During  the  first  days,  I  was  present  at  a  very  ludicrous 
acting  rehearsal,  when  the  basso,  Grengg,  who  had  a  godlike 
voice,  and  who  was  the  most  good-natured  of  all  Viennese 
rogues,  was  being  broken  in  by  Cosima  to  the  part  of  Hagen. 
But  what  interest  had  Grengg  in  Hagen's  origin,  which 
Cosima  explained  so  beautifully  and  logically?  Grengg,  at 
last,  took  the  instruction  in  bad  part,  and  a  catastrophe  was 
close  at  hand.  I  begged  Cosima  not  to  ask  too  much  of  him 
or  he  would  leave  us,  and  Elmblad's  hoarse  foghorn  was  im- 
possible, even  for  the  giant.  Grengg  said  to  me:  "Well,  I  am 
lacking  in  '  the  demonic,' "  and  the  next  day  he  had  departed. 
He  was  implored  to  return,  whereupon  he  is  reported  to  have 
replied,  telegraphically,  "I  won't!"  But  he  did  sing,  never- 
theless. Grengg  once  said  to  Jahn:  "See  here,  Herr  Direc- 
tor, you  do  not  need  to  give  me  any  parts  if  you  will  just  pay 
me  my  salary ;  I  am  not  at  all  ambitious. "  He  was,  however, 
later  on,  very  solicitous  of  the  esteem  of  his  parrot,  who 
would  not  honour  him  with  a  word  all  day  long  if 
Grengg  came  home  intoxicated  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning  or  later,  which  treatment  Grengg  could  not 
bear. 

The  Rhine  maidens'  swimming  machine,  transformed 
into  a  splendid  flying  apparatus,  worked  finely,  and,  there- 
fore, it  was  the  more  regrettable  that  the  three  voices  did  not 
blend.  The  second  Rhine  maiden  was  chiefly  to  blame  for 
this,  as  she  was  terribly  unmusical,  and  spoiled  all  the  trios. 
The  Rheingold  was  beautifully  staged,  and  was  much  more 
animated  than  in  1876,  only  the  animation  often  expressed 
itself  in  restlessness,  and  frequently  detracted  from  the 
enjoyment  of  seeing  and  hearing. 


422  My  Path  Through  Life 

The  obeisances  made  by  the  assembled  gods  before 
Wotan  were  positively  comical  to  witness,  during  the  music 
following  Loge's  narrative,  which  should  express  the  echoing 
laments  of  the  Rhine  maidens  for  the  restoration  of  the  gold. 
How  could  Frau  Wagner  make  such  a  mistake?  And  how 
far  this  was  from  Wagner's  directions!  Fafner  struck  his 
brother  Fasolt  dead  with  a  single  blow,  while  the  orchestra 
indicated  four  of  them,  and  Wagner,  assuredly,  would  have 
wished  this  special  thing  observed  exactly. 

I  had  been  there  since  June  2Oth,  but,  for  me,  there  was 
no  Gotterdammerung  rehearsal  until  July  27th,  when  one 
began  in  the  morning  with  the  Waltraute  scene  and  ended 
in  the  evening.  Cosima  said  nothing  to  me,  but  found  fault 
with  all  the  others.  The  everlasting  "standing  in  profile" 
was  carried  to  the  point  of  mania ;  the  spectator  saw  nothing 
more  of  the  actor  as  the  artists  stood  constantly  with  their 
backs  turned  towards  either  one  or  the  other  half  of  the 
audience.  Cosima  seemed  very  content  with  my  perform- 
ance, kissed  me  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  said  to  me  at  the  end 
that  it  was  "magnificent,"  and,  though  she  wanted  to  have 
something  here  or  there  a  trifle  more  to  the  right  or  left, 
that  would  not  be  taken  into  consideration  and  could  remain 
as  it  was.  I  was  very  glad  of  her  approbation,  and  I  hoped 
for  continued  working  together  for  the  known  goal.  The 
rehearsals  seemed  to  be  ended  for  me  with  this  one,  as  I 
was  not  informed  of  any  more,  and  I  only  substituted  once  for 
Frau  Gulbranson,  who  was  now  engaged  with  me,  and  who 
did  not  appear  at  the  right  time. 

Being  unemployed,  I  listened,  watched,  and  observed  at 
the  rehearsals.  Not  much  attracted  me;  my  adhesion  to 
Wagner's  personal  scenic  arrangements,  to  the  artistic 
entirety  I  had  known,  which  had  impressed  itself  so  deeply 
on  us  all,  would  not  permit  of  it.  That  is  to  say,  I  suffered 
when  I  was  forced  to  witness  how  the  physiognomy  of  the 
Ring  of  1876,  which  we  had  carried  within  ourselves  so 
lovingly  and  onward  to  others,  together  with  the  thought  of 


Bayreuth,   1896  423 

the  creator  of  the  work,  was  here  often  quite  dislocated  in 
the  very  place  that  was  its  home. 

And  not  only  were  there  changes  in  the  Rheingold  but 
also  in  the  Walkure.  In  the  love  duet,  Siegmund  and  Sieg- 
linde  sat  just  reversed.  Contrary  to  1876,  Sieglinde  occu- 
pied the  corner  towards  the  wings,  and  Siegmund,  in  order  to 
be  able  to  look  at  her,  had  to  sing  into  the  wings.  The  second 
act,  in  decorations  and  positions,  departed  entirely  from 
1 876.  During  that  year  the  fight  of  the  men  took  place  on  the 
broad  road  that  led  across  the  entire  stage,  above  the  rocks, 
while,  in  1896,  it  v/as  enacted  on  the  left  side.  Now  the  rocks 
were  divided  by  a  road  in  the  centre.  Brunhilde  stood  on 
the  right-hand  rock,  this  time,  in  the  first  scene,  and  went  off 
to  the  right,  whereas,  in  1876,  she  had  stood  on  the  left  hand, 
and,  after  the  first  scene,  went  off  by  the  right,  above,  over 
the  broad  road.  Now,  after  the  proclamation  of  death,  she 
went  into  the  cave  that  was  under  the  rocks  on  the  right  side, 
and  appeared  at  the  combat,  without  any  apparent  reason, 
on  the  left  side,  in  a  very  small  machine  on  wheels,  in  which 
she,  a  helpless  doll,  could  not  move  either  lance  or  shield  to 
protect  Siegmund,  to  say  nothing  of  taking  part  in  the  action. 

Splendid  as  was  the  effect  of  the  scenery  in  itself,  one 
must  admit,  upon  mature  reflection,  that  it  did  not  corre- 
spond to  the  brilliant  picture  which  it  should  awake  in  the 
audience  after  the  gloomy  first  and  before  the  equally 
gloomy  last  act.  Let  us  distinctly  conceive  the  spirit  of  the 
scene: 

The  curtain  parts  after  a  brilliant  and  daring  prelude,  and 
before  us  stand  Wotan  and  Brunhilde,  the  radiant,  happy 
couple  united,  creative.  Wotan  is  still  the  "free  God."  He 
is  on  the  point  of  imparting  to  his  favourite  child,  who  stands 
before  him  in  armour,  the  command  to  guard  Siegmund  for 
him  in  battle,  and  to  fell  a  miserable  wretch.  "On  cloudy 
heights  dwell  the  gods,"  sings  Wotan.  Such  black  rocks  are 
not  to  be  found  on  cloudy  heights,  and  they  do  not  pre- 
sent an  attractive  picture;  the  impression  should  be  brilliant, 


424  My  Path  Through  Life 

sunny,  and  clear.  It  was  so  under  Wagner,  and  it  was  beau- 
tiful that  way.  It  should  depict  smiling  happiness  and 
daring  courage,  and  only  little  by  little  should  care  and 
death,  like  grey  veils  of  fog,  darken  the  scene  of  mournfullest 
destiny. 

In  1896,  the  ground  was  covered  with  humps  in  the 
second  picture,  and  the  singer  had  not  a  foot's  width  of 
secure  standing  room — a  highly  uncomfortable  novelty. 
And  just  as  contrary  to  1876  as  this  uneven  ground  was  the 
unbroken  level  ground  in  the  third  act,  that  did  not  present 
the  smallest  elevation  for  the  grouping  of  fourteen  persons. 
Formerly,  several  small  jutting  rocks  in  front  of  Briinhilde's 
resting  place — that  did  not  incommode  her  at  all — enabled 
us  Valkyries  on  appearing  to  rush  onward  or  to  take  up 
elevated  positions,  which  brought  some  variety  into  the 
grouping.  There  was  no  longer  question  of  that  in  1896, 
when  the  Valkyries  often  stood  in  a  row  like  soldiers,  or  dis- 
appeared with  convulsive  movements. 

From  every  side  one  heard  complaints  of  the  everlasting 
changes,  and  of  the  posing  and  decorations,  that  were  denoted 
to-day  as  permanent  and  to-morrow  were  again  rejected  as 
wrong.  Kranich,  the  master  machinist,  begged  Cosima  one 
day,  for  this  reason,  to  certify  the  arrangement  to  him,  so 
that  the  next  day  everything  would  not  be  pronounced 
wrong.  If  this  uncertainty  of  the  leading  personalities  of  the 
present  Bayreuth  be  now  weighed  in  the  balance  over  against 
those  artists,  who,  since  1876,  had  spread  abroad  his  works 
in  common,  according  to  the  administration  and  model  of 
the  true  master,  the  balance  must  incline  in  favour  of  the 
recollections  of  those  artists. 

I  may  be  understood  still  better  when  I  say  that  Cosima, 
during  the  first  rehearsals  of  the  Ring  even  laid  important 
questions  before  her  son  Siegfried — who  was  only  six  years 
old  about  1876,  and  who  was  seldom  at  the  rehearsals — 
saying,  "You  remember,  Siegfried,  do  you  not,  that  it  was 
done  this  way  in  1876?"  Whereupon  Siegfried  always 


Bayreuth,   1 896  425 

replied,  "  I  believe  you  are  right,  mamma. "  I  was  very  often 
compelled  to  observe  that  it  had  not  been  so,  and  that  Cosima 
was  mistaken  in  her  opinion.  But  as  soon  as  one  informed 
her  that  this  or  that  had  been  different  in  1876,  the  same 
answer  was  always  given,  "Very  true,  but  subsequently  it 
was  determined  this  way ! "  As,  most  assuredly,  explanations 
would  have  been  found  of  this  "subsequently,"  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  enquire  into  it  any  further.  There  would  be 
no  reproach  for  those  who  never  had  been  participants 
themselves  if  much  had  slipped  from  their  memory  in  the 
course  of  twenty  years,  but  to  assume  that  a  boy  who  was 
then  six  years  old  should  still  recall  anything,  a  child  who 
had  taken  no  part — the  attempt  to  make  others  believe  it 
seemed  to  me — very  daring. 

Shortly  before  the  beginning  of  the  rehearsals,  Hans 
Richter  enquired  of  me  if,  in  1876,  in  the  Rheingold,  when  the 
sword  motif  was  first  heard  and  at  Wotan's  words,  "So  griiss 
ich  die  Burg ! "  Wotan  had  or  had  not  lifted  the  sword,  which 
the  giant  Fafner,  with  this  object,  had  carelessly  thrown  on 
the  treasure  heap,  and  with  the  thought  of  Siegfried  had 
raised  it  towards  the  burg.  I  remembered  clearly  the  many 
deliberations,  but  not  the  final  result,  as  we  Rhine  maidens, 
during  this  scene,  were  occupied  behind  the  wings,  and  could 
not  see  what  happened  on  the  stage.  So  I  turned  to  Betz, 
who  told  me  that  it  was  not  done  at  the  beginning  of  1876 
but  was  adopted  later. 

How  often  was  I  impelled  by  artistic  interest  to  call  out  to 
the  Rhine  maidens:  "You  must  do  it  this  way;  you  should 
sing  thus ;  you  should  so  move  that  you  help  the  expression." 
I  was  never  questioned,  however,  and  there  was  no  desire 
for  my  ability  and  knowledge.  There  seemed  to  be  no 
recollections  of  us  who  stood  for  1876,  and  so  much  passed 
by  me,  the  beauty  of  which  had  become  a  part  of  myself, 
without  warming  me  up  or  having  any  trace  or  any  interest. 
There  was  wanting  love,  soul,  and  heart,  and  all  technique 
that  could  bring  the  inner  beauty  close  to  the  listener.  The 


426  My  Path  Through  Life 

last  lament  to  Wotan  sounded  quite  expressionless.  There 
were  cries  but  no  lamentations,  and  no  one  in  the  present 
Bayreuth  recalled  that,  in  1876,  the  wailing,  help-imploring 
tones  of  the  Rhine  maidens  were  wrenched  out  of  their 
throats,  and  that  they,  besides,  also  characterised  the 
brilliancy  of  the  Rhinegold,  for  which  they  mourned. 

Except  Vogl,  Hans  Richter,  Mottl,  my  sister  (who 
suddenly  found  herself  the  third  Norn,  without  knowing  how 
it  happened),  and  my  insignificant  self,  there  were  none 
present  of  those  who  had  then  been  engaged  in  the  Ring. 
Mottl,  often  many  rows  distant  from  us,  exchanged  yearning 
glances  of  inner  understanding  with  us  sisters  whenever  any 
reminiscence  recalled  the  superior  performances  of  1876,  and 
there  was  abundance  of  them.  Hans  Richter,  the  embodi- 
ment of  unselfishness,  did  for  the  young  son  of  his  old  master, 
what  no  one  else,  indeed,  would  have  done.  He  had  already 
held  forty-six  orchestra  rehearsals,  that  Siegfried  had  dili- 
gently attended,  so  as  to  learn,  by  listening  to  Richter,  how 
it  should  be  done.  Then  Richter  conducted  the  first  stage 
rehearsal;  Siegfried,  the  second;  and  Mottl,  the  final  one; 
Richter,  the  first  and  fifth;  Mottl,  the  third;  and  Siegfried, 
the  second  and  fourth  cycle. 

Barely  eight  days  after  my  arrival  at  Bayreuth,  a  small 
swelling  had  appeared  behind  my  left  ear,  which  was  first  the 
size  of  a  pinhead,  then  of  a  pea,  and  which,  after  three  weeks, 
had  attained  the  bigness  of  a  small  hen's  egg.  Its  growth  was 
unattended  with  pain,  but  it  annoyed  me,  at  last,  as  the 
stiffness  of  my  neck  prevented  me  from  making  the  least 
movement  of  my  head.  The  physician  did  not  know  what 
to  make  of  it  and  took  it  for  an  infection,  though  I  had  no 
idea  whence  it  could  have  arisen.  The  first  cycle  was 
drawing  steadily  nearer,  and,  as  neither  hot  nor  cold  com- 
presses helped  the  swelling,  I  insisted  upon  having  it  cut. 
This  was  opposed  by  the  doctor  because,  externally,  there 
was  yet  no  sufficient  reason  visible  for  an  operation.  Hot 
flaxseed  poultices  were  still  applied,  which  the  apothecary's 


Bayreuth,    1 896  427 

apprentice,  as  we  heard  later,  ground  in  a  mustard  mill,  and 
whom  I  had  to  thank  that,  finally,  after  the  third  night,  the 
desired  symptom  really  formed,  so  that  now  Dr.  Landgraf, 
at  half-past  seven  in  the  morning,  could  proceed  to  operate. 
What  a  wound  was  made  and  what  a  scar!  The  last  three 
days  and  nights  were  terrible ;  a  high  fever  shook  me  merci- 
lessly, maddening  pain  drove  me  almost  frantic  and  robbed 
me  of  all  my  carefully  saved  energy  for  my  task.  It  was  of 
course  impossible  to  take  part  in  the  final  rehearsals.  The 
operation,  however,  relieved  me  of  the  fearful  tension,  and, 
for  the  next  two  days,  I  felt  myself  passably  well,  only  to 
collapse  entirely  on  the  third  day.  Cosima  often  made 
enquiries  about  me,  and  begged  me,  even  before  the  final 
rehearsals,  not  to  sing  but  to  take  care  of  myself.  But  in 
what  suffering  had  I  often  sung  in  the  course  of  my  career! 
Here  it  was  of  the  first  importance  that  I  should  be  at  my 
post,  as  very  many  friends  had  come  to  Bayreuth  expressly 
for  my  sake.  There  were  many  other  grounds  also  why  I 
desired  it.  As  weak  as  I  was  and  wretched  as  I  felt,  I  re- 
hearsed the  evening  before,  in  the  absence  of  my  sister — who 
had  nursed  me  like  a  mother  and  had  stood  by  me,  so  that, 
perhaps,  I  can  never  repay  her  for  it, — in  order  to  feel  sure  that 
I  could  kneel,  fall,  and  rise  on  the  stage,  and  I  even  attempted 
to  sing  the  cry. 

Cosima  had  requested  me  to  bring  my  costumes  with  me, 
in  any  event,  as  she  feared  that  those  she  had  ordered  might 
arrive  too  late  in  the  end.  And  rightly  so,  for  not  until  noon 
on  the  day  of  the  Walkure  performance  was  a  "suit  of 
armour"  sent  me,  which  I  took  for  a  mistake,  and  I  reported 
to  the  theatre  that  I  intended  to  put  on  my  own  coat 
of  mail  for  the  Ring.  But  I  was  wrong,  it  was  not 
an  error,  for  Burgstaller,  as  Siegfried,  came  up  to  me 
in  the  Gotterdammerung  with  the  words,  "Only  look, 
dear  lady,  what  kind  of  a  Jeanne  d'Arc  suit  of  armour 
they  have  dressed  me  in!"  Not  until  the  poor  young 
man  had  been  almost  strangled  by  the  armour,  in  the 


428  My  Path  Through  Life 

third  act,  was  it  retired  in  favour  of  the  old  Ring  coat  of 
mail. 

Still  very  miserable  but  firmly  resolved  to  sing,  I  dragged 
myself  to  the  theatre  in  the  afternoon.  In  that  atmosphere, 
little  by  little,  the  old  elasticity  returned,  and,  though  the 
metre  and  a  half  high  and  very  heavy  shield  was  not  easy 
to  lift,  yet  I  accomplished  it,  and,  at  the  end  of  the  per- 
formance, I  was  indeed  a  tired  but  also  a  different  person, 
and  on  the  high  road  to  improvement.  The  next  day  in 
Siegfried,  and  in  the  Gotterdammerung  on  the  third  evening, 
I  was  still  stronger,  and  had  no  cause  to  be  ashamed  of  my 
co-operation.  Master  Carl  Perron  of  Dresden,  who  was  our 
Wotan,  protected  me  like  a  father,  and  to  him,  also,  I  wish 
to  express  my  heartiest  thanks  for  his  care  of  me  then,  and 
for  his  fraternal  support  that  I  can  never  forget. 

On  account  of  her  weak  eyes,  Cosima  had  given  up  writing 
for  a  long  while  past,  but,  after  the  first  cycle,  she  sent  me  a 
dictated  letter  full  of  amiable  appreciation  of  my  singing, 
which  had  delighted  her  from  "Hojotoho"  to  "  Selig  grusst 
dich  dein  Weib";  on  the  other  hand,  she  had  much  to  find 
fault  with  in  my  postures.  And  yet  she  had  said  to  me  after 
the  first  and  only  Gotterdammerung  rehearsal,  that  a  little 
more  to  the  right  or  the  left  did  not  matter  to  her,  and  my 
rendering  might  remain  unchanged.  I  must  premise  that 
as  often  as  I  sang  Brunhilde  with  Niemann,  Betz,  Frau 
Sucher,  and  Anton  Seidl  in  Berlin,  in  Vienna,  after  Frau 
Materna,  and  in  America,  I  always  went  through  it  according 
to  the  Bayreuth  Decisions  of  1876,  and  was  only  forced  to 
make  changes  when  new  associates  forgot  the  positions, 
which,  of  course,  sometimes  happened. 

Any  one  who  knows  me  must  bear  me  witness  how  closely 
I  keep  to  the  poses,  when  once  they  have  been  worked  out. 
All  of  a  sudden,  here  were  many  of  them  declared  wrong  or 
unsuitable  that  formerly  satisfied  everybody.  It  must  be 
taken  into  consideration  that  Frau  Wagner  "settled"  things 
daily,  and  changed  them  just  as  often,  and  that  others  were 


Bayreuth,   1896  429 

willing  to  play  the  part  of  the  "marker"  and  wished  to  see 
things  of  which  I,  for  my  part,  was  not  guilty.  It  may  be 
that,  on  the  first  evening,  I  made  the  mistake  of  stepping 
once  across  the  black  line,  as  I  did  not  notice  it  in  my  con- 
dition ;  it  has  certainly  never  been  my  custom  to  sing  or  act 
down  at  the  footlights. 

When  I  discussed  my  Walkure  costume  with  Professor 
Doepler  in  1876,  and  thought  of  having  a  white  mantle,  he 
said  to  me  that  Brunhilde  should  carry  such  an  one,  and 
that  no  other  Valkyrie  might  appear  in  it.  But  Materna,  as 
Brunhilde,  received  a  red  one,  and  Doepler  offered  me  the 
unappropriated  white  one,  which  I  did  not  accept  because 
the  colour  combination  in  my  costume  pleased  me  so  much. 
The  favourite  child  of  the  blonde  god  should  be  blonde  like 
her  sisters,  that  is  to  say,  red  blonde  in  the  colour  of  her  hair, 
as  pure  blonde  is  not  effective  enough  on  the  stage.  Materna 
pleased  Frau  Wagner  better  in  her  own  beautiful  black  hair, 
therefore,  every  other  Valkyrie  wore  her  own  natural  hair. 
This  time  the  red  mantle  fitted  badly  into  the  surroundings 
as  Wotan,  who  wore  a  blue  one  in  1876,  had  on  a  red  one  in 
1896  that  was  of  another  shade.  Afterwards,  a  very  cele- 
brated tragedienne  wrote  to  me  in  an  outburst  of  anger  after 
the  Walkure,  "The  heavens  be  praised  that  'Grane'  trod  on 
your  mantle,  as  we  may  now  hope  to  be  rid  of  the  horror. " 

Brunhilde  should  give  all  to  Siegfried.  Very  well ;  but, 
in  1876,  she  wisely  kept  on  the  red  cloak  until  the  close  of  the 
second  act,  and  appeared  only  in  the  very  last  scene  in  a 
grey  mantle  at  Siegfried's  bier.  Frau  Vogl,  Klaffsky, 
Voggenhuber,  and  I  wore  white  cloaks  and  red-blonde  wigs, 
in  accordance  with  Wagner's  wish  and  insight,  because 
Brunhilde  is  a  radiant  figure,  as  the  elder  Doepler  originally 
correctly  perceived.  Siegfried  had  another  cloak  about  him, 
as  he  walked  out  of  the  rocky  cavern  with  Brunhilde.  And 
why  not?  No  one  asks  in  the  myths  of  the  gods  and  heroes 
whence  comes  an  article  of  dress.  Richard  Wagner  saw 
clearly  that,  if  Brunhilde  deprived  herself  of  part  of  her 


430  My  Path  Through  Life 

flowing  draperies,  she  would  seem  like  no  figure  at  all  on  the 
large  stage,  and,  in  the  eyes  of  the  audience,  the  impression 
of  the  character  would  be  lost.  The  myths  of  the  heroes 
should  not  be  treated  logically,  but  like  fairy  tales. 

And  to-day,  when  dramatic  art  is  reduced  to  nothing, 
when  space,  decorative  painting,  and  imagination  are  carried 
to  extremes  by  the  managers,  one  may  not  do  entirely  with- 
out gesticulation,  in  support  of  the  expression,  as  Cosima 
felt  herself  impelled  to  assume.  Victor  Tilgner  was  right 
when  he  said  of  Schubert:  "One  may  not  chisel  out  artists 
like  common  people,"  that  is,  make  them  look  so,  and,  for 
the  same  reason,  stage  heroes  and  heroines — and  on  the 
boards  nearly  everybody  is  such  in  one  sense  or  another — 
should  not  be  permitted  to  act  and  express  themselves  like 
civilians,  and  they  should  not  be  divested  of  their  charac- 
teristic setting.  Her  cloak  is  the  only  thing  still  suggestive  of 
Brunhilde's  boldness  and  wildness,  and  that  article  of  dress 
may,  and  should,  suggest  these  qualities. 

I  write  this  far  removed  from  any  wish  to  bring  as  a 
reproach  against  the  great,  strong,  and  admirable  will  of 
Frau  Wagner  that  she  here  thought  too  logically  and  not 
with  sufficient  stagecraft.  It  is  done  only  to  state  an  artistic 
standpoint  that  coincides  with  Richard  Wagner's,  and  which 
only  practising  artists — not  "theatre  managers"  or  "direc- 
tors" of  acting — can  understand. 

For  these  fundamental  reasons  it  was  doubly  striking 
that  Waltraute  appeared  in  the  Gotterdammerung  dressed 
entirely  different,  which  made  her  seem  quite  another  per- 
son, one  whom  I  did  not  recognise.  I  was  told  at  Wahn- 
fried  that  this  costume,  together  with  Fricka's,  was  made 
with  long  sleeves  of  six  puffs  and  falling  over  the  hands,  like 
Botticelli's  pictures  of  Madonnas.  In  vain  did  I  ask  myself 
what  Botticelli's  Madonnas  had  to  do  with  heathen  gods. 
In  1876,  the  Valkyries  wore  long  flowing  robes,  but  in  1896, 
on  the  contrary,  they  were  dressed  in  very  short  ones. 
Waltraute  was  the  only  sister  who,  in  1896,  had  to  undergo 


Bayreuth,   1896  431 

a  metamorphosis  in  the  Gdtterddmmerung  that  totally  dis- 
figured her.  These  matters,  also,  I  do  not  put  down  solely 
to  Cosima's  account. 

I  was  severely  censured  for  another  thing:  that  I  did  not 
stand  with  my  back  to  the  audience  during  Waltraute's 
narrative.  Why  did  I  not  do  it?  Because  I  wished  to 
express  something  in  my  face  that  one  cannot  express  with 
the  back.  Is  nothing  passing  in  Brunhilde  during  Wal- 
traute's address?  Shall  not  the  audience  see  how  it  affects 
Brunhilde?  It  goes  without  saying  that  this  makes  it  easy 
for  the  narrator,  and,  for  those  who  cannot  express  anything, 
the  "back  position"  is  well  suited.  But  I  had  something 
to  say  to  the  audience  during  the  narrative,  albeit  silently, 
with  eyes,  heart,  and  soul,  and  I  showed  what  it  was.  Brun- 
hilde has  laid  her  right  hand  on  her  breast  during  the  narra- 
tive and  listens  almost  apathetically,  gazing  dumbly  in 
front  of  her,  to  the  story  that  passes  before  her  like  a  dream, 
until  she  feels  herself  back  in  the  past  and  sadly  remembers 
Wotan, 

Then  faltered  his  glance, 

He  thought,  Brunhilde,  of  thee. 

Now  Brunhilde  looks  up,  and  her  hand  is  pressed  against 
her  heart  in  deep  sympathy.  She  need  do  nothing  more. 
This  sublime  place  in  this  wonderful  situation  always  drew 
from  me  tears  of  mournfullest  emotion,  that,  as  Brunhilde, 
I  was  never  ashamed  to  show.  Then  she  sinks  back  com- 
pletely into  dreaming,  until  she  is  roused  out  of  it  by  Wal- 
traute's entreaty  to  give  Siegfried's  ring  back  to  the  Rhine 
maidens.  What  did  Wotan  or  Valhalla  matter  to  her  in 
comparison  with  Siegfried's  love  and  pledge  of  love — the 
ring?  Happily  she  awaits  his  coming;  the  horn  sounds. 
But,  with  the  appearance  of  Siegfried  as  Gunther,  all  woe 
suddenly  breaks  upon  her,  and  plunges  her  into  despair. 
The  inner  struggles  of  the  soul  that  cast  her  down  from  the 
highest  pinnacle  of  happiness  to  the  deepest  grief,  and  which 


432  My  Path  Through  Life 

are  symbolically  bound  up  in  the  ring,  are  most  difficult  to 
express.  The  restitution  can  succeed  and  make  an  impres- 
sion only  when  Siegfried  is  master,  artistically,  of  his  task, 
as  well  as  of  the  difficult  situation,  and  so  works  as  the  cause 
of  them. 

Materna,  in  1876,  stood  in  the  background  to  the  right, 
in  front  of  a  rock  that  protected  her  in  the  rear,  and  from 
there  threatened  Siegfried- Gunther  with  the  ring,  which 
she  wore  on  her  right  hand.  As  soon  as  she  had  nothing 
left  to  say,  Brunhilde  flew  to  the  left  in  front  of  him,  that 
she  might  defend  herself  from  there,  and,  after  the  third 
struggle,  she  fell,  overcome,  into  his  arms.  Cosima  wanted 
to  have  Brunhilde  at  the  left — perhaps  merely  to  make 
possible  a  position  with  her  back  turned — and  I  had  to  say 
then  that  I  would  not  obey  her  wish.  I  knew  how  it  had 
been  in  1876,  and,  if  Brunhilde  was  to  sing  this  most  im- 
portant passage  with  her  back  to  the  whole  audience,  the 
effect  of  the  powerful  scene,  which  is  to  be  found  only  in  her 
expression,  is  quite  lost.  Cosima  assured  me  that  Materna 
had  stood  differently,  and  later  had  followed  her  own  ideas, 
which  I  could  not  judge  because  I  never  saw  Materna 
subsequently. 

I  replied  to  this  letter,  written  in  a  very  courteous  tone, 
which  Cosima  was  always  careful  to  use,  first,  by  a  letter 
composed  in  easily  comprehensible  excitement,  and  then  I 
went  myself  to  Wahnfried  to  discuss  it  fully  with  her  there. 
After  I  had  said  to  her  frankly  what  had  agitated  me,  I 
begged  her  earnestly  to  relieve  me  of  my  obligations, — not 
from  wounded  vanity,  but  because,  with  my  conservative 
feelings,  I  believed  myself  to  be  out  of  place  there,  and  my 
serious  indisposition  was  a  sufficient  reason  to  give  the  world. 
Cosima  would  not  consent,  but  urged  me  to  remain,  and  so 
our  profound  disagreement,  a  genuine  quarrel,  resolved  itself 
into  apparent  harmony  that  exerted  a  pleasant  influence  on 
us  both. 

In  spite  of  all  that  went  against  the  ideas  of  1876,  my 


Marie  Lehmann 

From  a  photograph  by  Fritz  Luckhardt,  Vienna,  taken  in  1895 


Bayreuth,   1896  433 

memory  of  Cosima  and  my  Bayreuth  sojourn  left  nothing 
behind  which  diminished  my  esteem,  aside  from  my  artistic 
sentiments,  for  such  a  remarkable  and  strong-willed  woman, 
whose  life  was  assuredly  not  free  from  struggle,  and  who  may 
have  borne  much  that  did  not  take  place  before  the  eyes  of 
the  world.  On  the  contrary ;  I  believe,  in  fact,  that  we  drew 
closer  to  each  other  in  many  respects,  and  it  might  almost 
have  been  said  of  our  relations  that  extremes  meet.  Cosima, 
who  was  wholly  the  woman  of  the  world,  and  I,  who  was 
wholly  the  artist,  understood  each  other  very  well  at  times, 
without  setting  aside  our  opposite  professional  views,  and 
we  surely  did  full  justice  to  each  other,  as  the  comprehension 
of  one  strong  nature  brings  with  it  understanding  of  others. 
This  was  the  point  of  contact.  The  fine  lady  and  the  artist 
get  on  well  together  at  times,  until  both  lay  claim  to  perfec- 
tion. But  as  far  as  the  natural  talents  and  education  of  the 
personality  go  to  make  up  the  individual  in  his  elements  and 
actions,  they  express  themselves  more  strongly  in  one  or  the 
other  direction.  In  this  sense,  Cosima  is  not  an  artist  and 
I  am  not  a  woman  of  the  world,  and  just  this  was  the  root  of 
the  contradictions. 

Many  roads  lead  to  Rome,  but  to  the  Bayreuth  of  to-day 
only  one,  that  of  slavish  subjection.  There  is  also  no  clear 
conception  there  of  how  high  a  valuation  is  to  be  set  upon 
individual  artistry.  Without  it  nothing  great  can  be  created, 
and  the  audience,  no  matter  what  nationalities  it  may  re- 
present, will  not  be  moved  nor  transported.  And  it  must  be 
and  wishes  to  be  carried  away.  I  desire  to  be,  for  example, 
when  I  go  to  the  theatre,  and  I  count  myself  a  very  appre- 
ciative listener.  The  individuality  that  played  such  a  great 
part  in  1876  and  made  the  performances  of  that  day  ever 
memorable,  Richard  Wagner,  the  "  Master,"  left  to  the  artist, 
left  to  each  his  own ;  he  stepped  in  only  when  he  came  upon 
lack  of  understanding  or  dilettantism,  and  the  harmony 
existing  between  him  and  his  artists,  the  artists  and  his  work 

was  always  guarded.    That  is  an  incontestable  fact,  but  this 
28 


434  My  Path  Through  Life 

ideal  individuality  gave  way  to  a  despotism  that  demanded 
submission  as  the  first  requisite.  Even  though  the  sceptre  of 
the  despot  may  appear  to  be  wielded  with  much  amiability, 
yet  it  remains  what  it  really  is. 

Assuredly  only  good  has  been  desired  and  much  of  beauty 
has  been  attained,  but  the  heart  is  gone  out  of  it,  and  nothing 
at  Bayreuth  is  missed  so  sorely  as  that.  All  the  other 
changes  are  not  to  be  considered  in  comparison  with  "sen- 
timent, "  that,  in  art,  weighs  so  heavy  in  the  scales.  If  they 
would  only  follow  memory  more  closely  there!  This  psycho- 
logical puzzle,  the  solution  of  which  I  am  not  unfair,  per- 
haps, in  finding  in  Frau  Cosima's  artificiality,  it  would  be 
a  large  task  to  fathom. 

I  experienced,  in  Bayreuth,  something  else  that  was 
extraordinary.  As  I  have  said,  Cosima  had  often  assured  me, 
before  the  final  rehearsal,  that  I  did  not  need  to  sing  in  the 
first  cycle.  Why  not?  I  could  never  become  clear  as  to 
that,  but  my  attention  was  called,  however,  to  what  was 
incredible,  by  the  Hamburger  Nachrichten,  which  someone 
sent  me.  The  critic  of  that  paper,  whom  I  did  not  know, 
wrote  that  he  had  been  offended  by  the  attempts  to  create 
a  sentiment  against  me  at  Wahnfried,  even  before  I  had  sung. 
Can  that  be  credited?  But  what  artist  was  there  who  had 
not  experienced  something  bad  of  this  kind  at  Bayreuth, 
and  how  many  had  turned  their  backs  on  the  place  never  to 
return? 

Many  persons  go  to  Wahnfried,  the  elect  and  the  unelect, 
and  among  them  are  those  who  have  no  idea  of  art  or  of  an 
artist's  sensibility.  They  listen  there  to  all  kinds  of  things, 
write  about  the  work  and  the  artist  as  is  suggested  to  them, 
and  give  up  their  souls  for  the  house  of  Wahnfried,  thinking 
that  they  are,  thereby,  being  true  to  the  "Master"! — not  to 
him! 

I  heard  the  Rheingold  in  the  second  cycle  so  as  to  form 
my  opinion  of  it.  The  performance  was  stamped  with  a 
lack  of  heart.  It  made  the  impression  on  me  of  a  play  by 


Bayreuth,   1896  435 

marionettes;  motions  that  had  been  imitated  without  force, 
expression,  or  feeling.  A  boundless  sorrow  overcame  me  for 
all  that  had  been  dear  to  me  in  1876.  The  words  of  Vogl  as 
Loge,  "They  hasten  to  their  end,"  seemed  prophetic  to  me. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  third  cycle  was  real  balm  to  me,  when 
I  stood  on  the  stage  in  sympathy  of  heart  and  memory  with 
the  now  artistically  mature  Mottl  below  me.  We  were  raised 
to  the  realms  of  the  blest,  up  to  him,  to  whom  and  to  whose 
mastery  we  alone  were  able  to  do  homage. 

On  August  6th,  a  delightful  garden  party  took  place  at  the 
country  estate,  Riedelsberg,  belonging  to  the  banker,  von 
Gross,  and  his  dear  wife,  the  truest  of  the  true,  where  all 
those  present  mingled  happily.  It  was  my  first  outing  after 
the  painful  intermezzo,  and  it  brought  back  my  spirits. 
Two  days  later,  the  whole  company  was  assembled  at  Wahn- 
fried,  to  which  Cosima  gave  me  a  pressing  invitation,  and 
where  one  might  at  last  meet  dear  old  friends.  Among 
others,  a  beautiful  friend  of  the  house  was  introduced  to  me, 
who  had  ventured  to  recommend  to  Cosima  a  short  theatre 
engagement  for  young  Siegfried,  where  he  would  have  the 
opportunity  of  mastering  routine.  But  this  had  unfortunate 
consequences  for  herself;  all  Wahnfried  was  aghast  at  the 
"foolishness"  of  the  pretty  friend.  A  remarkable  accident 
made  me  aware  of  the  abortive  attack.  It  certainly  would 
not  have  done  young  Siegfried  any  harm  if  he  had  studied 
for  a  long  time  in  practical  artistic  life  much  that  was  neces- 
sary,— even  though  much  of  it  must  be  forgotten  again, — 
which  is  of  use  to  an  artist  during  his  whole  life.  Siegfried, 
however,  bore  himself  admirably,  and  probably  would  have 
taken  the  well-meant  advice  in  no  bad  part. 

There  was  much  music  at  Wahnfried  during  the  receptions. 
The  Princess  Friedrich  Leopold  of  Prussia,  the  sister  of  the 
Empress,  Prince  and  Princess  Hermann  of  Weimar,  Land- 
grave Philip  of  Hesse,  Count  and  Countess  Wolkenstein 
(Schleinitz),  the  Prince  of  Anhalt,  Ambassador  von  Rado- 
witz,  Count  and  Countess  Melitta  Donhoff  and  Princess 


436  My  Path  Through  Life 

Liechtenstein  adorned  the  select  circle,  composed  of  all 
elements  and  nationalities.  Much  had  been  changed  in  the 
drawing-room  in  the  twenty  years,  and  not  fewer  than  from 
five  to  seven  large  pictures  of  Frau  Cosima  stood  and  hung 
there,  that,  in  part,  rendered  not  only  a  resemblance  but 
also  her  nature  very  admirably.  On  August  8th,  Fraulein 
von  Artner  sang  from  Figaro,  Frau  Schumann- Heink  the 
Allmacht,  Edouard  Risler  played  the  Meistet -singer  overture, 
and  I  sang  the  Erlkonig  by  request,  after  which  Cosima 
complimented  me  by  saying  that  my  interpretation  had 
vividly  reminded  her  of  her  father's,  Franz  Liszt.  This  was 
the  first  and  only  time  that  anything  was  said  of  remember- 
ing. The  next  time  I  was  asked  for  the  Fidelia  aria,  and,  at 
the  desire  of  the  most  amiable  and  bright  Princess  Friedrich 
Leopold,  I  repeated  the  Erlkonig.  Cosima  sent  me  superb 
flowers  the  next  day. 

The  Festival  was  concluded  with  the  fifth  cycle,  in  which 
I  sang  again,  and  our  dear  Hans  Richter  conducted  magnifi- 
cently. I  parted  with  much  cordiality  from  Cosima  and 
Daniela  von  Bulow-Thode.  The  Bayreuth  of  1896  also 
occupies  a  place  in  my  mind.  It  sharpened  my  recollec- 
tions of  1876;  it  showed  me  the  changes  of  time.  "How 
everything  was  and  will  be." 

After  my  return  home,  I  hastened  to  do  what  had  long 
lain  in  my  heart.  I  obtained  information  concerning  the 
conditions  of  a  free  bed  at  the  Augusta  Hospital.  I  added 
10,000  marks  to  my  Bayreuth  honorarium  and  telegraphed 
to  Frau  Cosima. 

DEAR  FRAU  WAGNER: 

As  it  has  so  far  been  impossible  for  you  to  carry  out  the 
Master's  wish,  I  have  to-day,  with  your  assistance,  founded  a 
free  bed  for  poor,  ill  musicians  that  shall  be  a  blessing  to  many. 
With  cordial  esteem, 

Your 

LILLI. 


Lilli  Lehmann 

Marie  Lehmann  Hedwig  Helbig 

at  Scharfling  on  the  Mondsee 

From  an  amateur  photograph 


Scharfling 

IN  the  night  before  the  last  Gdtterddmmerung  performance 
there  had  been  a  freeze.  It  was  bitterly  cold  the  next 
day,  and,  in  addition,  the  dressing-rooms  at  the  Festival 
Building,  that  could  not  be  heated,  had  just  been  washed 
out.  During  the  performance  no  one  knew  where  to  get 
shelter  from  the  cold  and  wet,  and  the  consequences  were 
not  long  in  coming.  I  arrived  at  Munich  in  the  evening  with 
a  heavy  cold  all  over  my  body.  The  Tristan  rehearsal  the 
next  morning,  to  which  Richard  Strauss  came  very  late  and 
others  not  at  all,  I  gave  up,  and  tried  to  get  rid  of  my  cold 
in  bed,  with  no  success  up  to  the  next  noon. 

I  had  taken  sixty  cholera  drops  in  twenty-four  hours, 
without  the  least  result,  and,  finally,  had  to  send  for  the 
theatre  physician.  "You  cannot  sing  Isolde  this  evening," 
he  said.  "I  alone  can  judge  whether  or  not  I  am  able  to 
sing,  Doctor,"  I  replied,  "but  I  wish  you  would  give  me 
something  to  make  me  feel  better. "  As  he  knew  of  nothing, 
he  took  his  departure,  and  I  sang  Isolde  that  evening,  and 
without  any  help  from  him.  Only  I  had  not  taken  account 
of  the  cholera  drops,  not  knowing  that  they  contained  opium, 
which  I  could  not  stand  even  in  the  very  smallest  doses.  I 
felt  deathly  sick  in  the  second  act,  and,  as  I  had  once  implored 
Gudehus  to  continue  singing  in  London  when  he  had  not 
received  his  salary,  he  now  entreated  me  to  keep  up,  because 
I  had  expressed  the  fear  that  the  curtain  would  have  to  be 
rung  down  in  the  middle  of  the  act.  I  really  sang  very  well, 

437 


438  My  Path  Through  Life 

also,  although,  in  the  third  act,  several  persons  waited 
behind  the  scenes,  expecting  to  have  to  carry  me  eventually 
off  the  stage.  The  next  day  I  was  able  to  find  a  bottle  of 
English  stout  that  immediately  relieved  my  condition.  Dr. 
Wernecke  told  me  that  English  stout  is  brewed  from  over- 
ripe wheat,  contains  much  ergot,  and  hence  has  an  extra- 
ordinary astringent  and  healing  effect  on  attacks  of  internal 
colds. 

Things  went  strangely  with  me  in  regard  to  Munich. 
I  see,  from  my  diaries,  how  often  I  had  to  decline  or  give  up 
star  engagements  there  against  my  wish  and  will,  because 
something  always  intervened  that  was  stronger  than  I, 
stronger  likewise  than  an  attack  of  cholerine,  which,  as  I 
have  shown,  did  not  keep  me  from  singing  Isolde. 

From  there,  I  went  by  way  of  Salzburg  and  the  lovely 
Mondsee  to  Scharfling.  A  true  horn  of  plenty  pours  forth 
over  me  happy  reminiscences  at  the  name  of  this  almost 
unknown  little  spot  of  earth.  As  early  as  1878  mamma, 
Riezl,  and  I  arrived  there  by  accident.  Distant  from  Salz- 
burg about  five  hours  by  carriage,  we  found  at  the  Mondsee 
a  small,  old  inn  frequented  by  peasants,  famed  for  its  good 
table,  where  just  two  Viennese  families  had  stayed  for  many 
years  alone,  and  where  two  remaining  tiny  rooms  were  kept 
ready  for  transients  who  ascended  the  Schafberg  from  there, 
at  the  foot  of  which  lies  Scharfling,  a  steamboat  landing 
place.  We  were  not  received  with  very  pleasant  looks,  as  the 
people  from  Vienna,  who  had  been  there  so  long,  considered 
the  Mondsee  to  be  their  property.  But  they  changed  their 
attitude  as  they  saw  that  we  did  not  deplete  the  water  by 
bathing  all  the  time,  did  not  drink  all  the  beer,  and  that  the 
mountains  lost  none  of  their  elevations  and  beauty  because 
we  climbed  them.  The  accommodations  were  wretched 
enough,  and  have  not  improved  since,  but  the  place  pleased 
us,  was  suited  to  our  principal  desires,  and  we  had  what  we 
needed — rest. 

To   our  extreme   surprise,   mamma  found   her   cousin 


Lilli  Lehmann  at  Scharfling  on  the  Mondsee 

From  an  amateur  photograph 


Scharfling  439 

Amalie,  the  widow  of  Prince  K.  Th.  Wrede,  very  near  by  at 
Castle  Huttenstein,  a  meeting  that  was  as  unhoped  for  as  it 
was  joyful.  How  often  did  we  sit  together  on  the  bench  at 
the  spot  called  "A  peep  into  the  country,"  and  gaze  down 
on  the  splendid  Wolfgangsee,  far  across  charming  St.  Gilgen, 
where,  subsequently,  I  learned  to  know  and  love  the  aged 
head-mistress,  Marie  Ebner  von  Eschenbach,  with  her  wise 
goodness  and  forbearance. 

I  met,  also,  at  Scharfling,  Archduke  Rudolf,  the  heir  to 
the  Austrian  throne,  who  arrived  by  steamboat  with  a  large 
company  to  make  the  ascent  of  the  Schafberg,  from  which  one 
enjoys  a  glorious  view  of  the  Austrian  Alps.  Heavily  veiled, 
I  was  standing  near  the  landing  and  was  much  astonished 
when  I  saw  the  Crown  Prince  walk  straight  up  to  me,  ad- 
dressing me  with  the  words,  "Ah,  the  Berlin  nightingale!" 
I  was  thunderstruck  by  his  memory  and  affability,  for,  as 
far  as  I  knew,  the  Crown  Prince  had  seen  me  only  once,  in 
the  distance,  when  he  was  in  Berlin,  at  a  Thursday  court 
concert.  On  that  occasion,  it  is  true,  I  perceived  his  inten- 
tion to  enter  the  wide-open  artists'  room  to  speak  to  me, 
but  this  was  thwarted  by  the  Empress,  who  had  just  been 
with  us,  and  who  soon  ended  the  intermission  for  going  the 
rounds,  and  so  the  opportunity  for  conversation  was  lost. 
Some  years  later,  the  Crown  Prince  wished  to  see  me  and 
my  sister  at  the  Concordia  Ball  in  Vienna,  when  Johanna 
Buska,  my  dear  colleague  from  Berlin,  was  also  presented 
to  him;  Pauline  Lucca  was  there,  likewise. 

One  may  hope  that  he  may  be  able  continually  to  return  to 
such  a  pleasing  locality,  and  yet,  a  whole  lifetime  may  elapse 
before  it  can  be  done.  Seventeen  years  had  flown  by,  after 
this  first  stay  at  Scharfling,  ere  I  saw  it  again.  Just  as  much 
in  need  of  rest  as  then,  my  husband  and  I,  in  1886,  were  in 
quest  of  a  quiet  little  spot  of  land.  What  an  acquaintance 
said  to  us  in  Munich,  in  1878,  when  he  recommended  Schar- 
fling, I  could  repeat  to  my  husband  word  for  word:  "I  know 
a  place  that  would  please  you,  provided  that  it  still  is  as  it 


44°  My  Path  Through  Life 

was  seventeen  years  ago."  Upon  our  arrival,  my  husband 
had  to  fight  immediately  against  the  gloomiest  thoughts, 
because  the  weather  received  us  in  the  true  "  Salzkammergut " 
way,  but  when,  towards  evening,  the  whole  glory  of  the 
region  was  unveiled,  it  won  him  at  once.  So  we  remained  at 
the  little  spot  that  ever  pleased  and  made  us  more  happy  the 
longer  we  knew  it,  and  in  the  neighbourhood  of  which  so 
many  dear  friends  lived.  In  the  magnificent,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  lovable  natural  surroundings  there,  that  uplifted 
rather  than  oppressed,  one  recovered  from  the  material  life 
of  great  cities,  that  had  long  disgusted  us,  because  the  older 
one  grew  the  deeper  one  saw  into  their  shadows,  and  so  could 
not  regard  it  all  as  splendid. 

About  1898,  I  built  as  a  surprise  for  him,  without  my 
husband's  knowledge,  a  small  house  that  provides  us  with 
more  comfort,  and  permits  of  our  remaining  there  until  into 
the  winter. 

Where  the  Attersee  broadens  to  an  inland  sea  at  Weissen- 
bach  dwelt  our  most  famous  neighbour,  Charlotte  Wolter, 
in  two  little  farmhouses  that  her  husband,  the  artistic 
Count  O'Sullivan,  had  adapted  and  furnished  with  much 
taste.  His  wife,  who  was  still  very  beautiful,  wore  peasant 
dress  ("Dearndlgewand"),  as  is  the  custom  in  the  Salz- 
kammergut, and  was  then  already  a  great  sufferer.  She  told 
us  the  following  anecdote  about  her  parrot.  As  she  entered  a 
dark  room  one  evening,  she  was  received  with  a  terrible  scream 
that  caused  her  to  think  some  one  had  been  murdered.  After 
she  had  regained  her  self-control,  she  thought  of  the  parrot, 
in  whose  presence  she  had  studied  Lady  Macbeth,  when  the 
bird  had  learned  the  shriek  of  terror  by  listening  to  her,  and, 
without  ever  practising  it  before,  had  uttered  it  that  night 
for  the  first  time,  perhaps  from  fright. 

Beside  Charlotte  Wolter,  Franz  Tewele  lived  there,  as  he 
does  still,  at  Unterach  on  the  Attersee,  with  his  laughing 
Maria,  both  of  whom  are  our  true  friends.  His  golden 
humour — may  God  preserve  it  to  him  and  us — can  never  be 


M  0) 


Scharfling  441 

utterly  killed.  And  on  the  road  to  Unterach,  on  the  Berghof, 
with  his  dear  Maria  and  his  two  little  moss-rosebud  daugh- 
ters, still  dwelt  at  that  time,  Ignaz  Brull,  whose  death  came 
far  too  early.  Friend  Goldmark  conies  on  a  visit  every 
autumn,  and  the  whole  Burg  Theatre  company  of  the  former 
and  present  time  swarm  at  the  glorious  lakes  in  their  own 
villas.  Aunt  Amalie's  daughter  lives  across  the  mountains 
towards  Salzburg,  and  friends  come  now  and  then  to  visit 
us.  Close  by,  Mozart  salutes  me  from  Salzburg,  to  whose 
paladins  I  have  joined  myself  as  leader,  with  intent  to  keep 
his  name  and  his  works  sacred,  and  to  proclaim  him  loudly 
against  madness  and  hypocrisy. 

But  we  might  not  yet  grant  ourselves  a  very  lengthy 
rest,  for  our  watchword  was  America,  towards  which  we 
journeyed,  accompanied  by  my  sister,  on  December  2ist, 
for  a  Wagner  tour  of  thirty  performances.  I  acquitted  my- 
self of  all  the  thirty,  including  an  extra  Fidelia  performance, 
in  the  three  months'  time,  and  the  strain  was  as  great  for 
Paul  Kalisch  as  for  me.  Nevertheless,  we  were  back  at 
Wiesbaden,  at  the  end  of  May,  for  Tristan,  which  we  sang 
five  times  in  six  days,  counting  in  three  big  rehearsals  and 
two  performances! 

In  the  autumn  of  1897,  I  entered  again  at  last  the  Berlin 
Opera  House  with  the  Ring,  in  which  I  became  acquainted 
with  van  Rooy  as  an  admirable  Wotan;  Ernst  Kraus,  Burg- 
staller,  and  Rosa  Sucher  as  Sieglinde  were  engaged  in  it, 
while  Weingartner  conducted.  It  was  an  intense  pleasure  to 
see  in  the  orchestra  this  idealist,  who  was  then  very  young. 
The  happiness  of  a  self -chosen  calling  beamed  in  his  face — 
the  delight  in  work  and  in  this  co-ordination  of  like  elements 
and  qualities,  with  which  he  encouraged  and  inspired  us 
artists.  Calmly,  and  with  certainty  and  distinction  Muck 
conducted  the  third  cycle  and  Don  Juan,  that  was  given 
three  times  in  Italian  with  d'Andrade  and  with  me  as 
Donna  Anna. 

Two  long  visiting  engagements  at  Vienna,  with  fourteen 


442  My  Path  Through  Life 

performances  and  countless  song  recitals  and  concerts, 
followed  one  another  in  1898,  until,  on  December 
28th,  I  again  began  in  America,  under  Maurice  Grau's  man- 
agement, with  the  Walkure,  the  greatest  of  all  our 
seasons. 

Jean  and  Edouard  de  Reszke,  Victor  Maurel,  Salesi  and 
Salignac,  van  Dyck,  Dippel  and  Plancon,  Emma  Eames, 
Brema,  Sembrich,  Nordica,  Schumann  Heink,  Meisslinger, 
and  I  were  in  the  company.  Just  think  of  productions  like 
Don  Juan,  for  instance,  with  Victor  Maurel,  Edouard, 
Salignac,  Sembrich,  Nordica,  and  myself  as  Anna;  or,  the 
Hugenotten  in  French,  with  Jean,  Edouard,  Plancon,  Maurel, 
and  the  ladies  Sembrich,  Mantelli,  and  my  insignificance  as 
Valentine;  or,  Tristan,  with  Jean,  myself,  Edouard,  and  van 
Rooy.  These  were  performances  that  cost  every  night  in 
salaries  35,000  francs,  without  counting  the  orchestra  and 
chorus,  and  that  were  collectively  on  the  highest  plane  of 
artistic  excellence. 

I  had  seen  and  admired  Victor  Maurel  as  Don  Juan  a 
short  time  previously  in  Berlin,  when  I  sang  Anna  with  him 
at  the  Royal  Opera  House.  Artists  were  enthusiastic  over 
his  dramatic  art,  while  the  critics  made  short  work  of  him. 
His  art  seemed  to  me  so  pre-eminent  that  I  felt  myself,  indeed, 
impelled  to  break  a  lance  for  him  in  public.  Maurel  was,  also, 
the  first  singer  and  artist  with  whom  one  could  talk  on  sing- 
ing and  art,  and,  as  we  often  found  opportunity  for  that  in 
America,  we  did  not  neglect  a  moment  when  we  could 
instruct  each  other  mutually  on  those  subjects.  Once,  when 
he  had  seen  me  in  a  rdle,  and  something  in  it  had  not  pleased 
him  and  he  wished  to  tell  me  so,  he  began  like  this  in  French: 
"Ecoutez,  Madame  Lehmann,  nous  sommes  de  trop  grands 
artistes  pour  nous  faire  des  compliments;  tachons  de  nous 
corriger ! ' '  He  was  right ;  compliments  can  be  uttered  by  any 
ass,  but  corrections  are  quite  another  thing,  and  life  is  short. 
Though  vocally  he  stood  no  longer  on  his  former  eminence, 
when  he  was  paid  far  more  than  all  the  first  tenors  of  the 


Scharfling  443 

world,  his  impersonations  were  overpowering,  even  in  the 
smaller  parts. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  performance  of  Faust  with  Jean, 
Edouard,  and  Emma  Eames,  nor  the  quartet,  that  can, 
perhaps,  never  again  be  heard  in  such  vocal  beauty  and 
perfection  of  singing.  Maurel's  death  scene  as  Valentine 
moved  us  so  profoundly  that,  for  hours  afterward,  we  gave 
ourselves  up  in  silence  to  the  overwhelming  inner  impression, 
which  Maurel  produced  from  nothing  that  could  be  seen  or 
grasped,  therefore,  only  by  the  expression  of  the  soul.  I 
would  not  give  up  the  delight  of  such  performances  for 
anything  in  the  world,  although  the  recollection  of  them 
completely  spoils  my  taste  for  almost  everything  that  is  to  be 
seen  and  heard  to-day. 

The  Rheingold  was  set  for  January  27th,  as  the  beginning 
of  the  cycle.  At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  Grau  called 
on  us  to  beg  my  sister  to  take  Fricka  that  evening,  as  Frau 
Brema  had  failed  him.  Riezl  would  have  saved  the  per- 
formance most  gladly,  but  she  had  to  refuse  as  she  was 
already  on  a  pension  and  feared  she  might  lose  it  thereby. 
No  one  now  knew  what  to  do,  whereupon  I  resolved  to  look 
at  the  role,  and  to  learn  it  if  it  were  possible.  A  piano  score 
was  not  at  hand,  and  had  to  be  first  borrowed  from  van 
Dyck,  who  lived  nearby,  a  conductor  had  to  be  fetched,  and 
then  the  work  began.  I  knew  much  of  the  text,  of  course, 
and  I  had  the  music  by  ear,  but  as  soon  as  I  had  to  sing  it 
accurately  and  from  memory,  all  that  I  knew  was  wrong  and 
the  right  seemed  unfamiliar.  My  hair  rose  on  my  head !  The 
performance  was  to  begin  at  eight  o'clock,  I  had  begun  at 
half  after  four,  and  the  time  ran  away  as  though  it  were  paid 
for  it.  Riezl  was  again  my  blessing,  as  she  sang  everything  to 
me  when  I  rested  a  moment.  I  worked  out  also  the  acting  of 
the  part  at  the  same  time,  and,  about  six  o'clock,  I  knew  it 
up  to  the  finale,  which  I  could  commit  to  memory  at  the 
opera-house  during  the  changes  of  scene.  Now  it  was 
necessary  for  me  to  rest  a  little  before  I  went  to  battle,  but  I 


444  My  Path  Through  Life 

had  hardly  lain  down  before  a  neighbour,  evidently  an  artist, 
began  to  play  exercises,  cadenzas,  and  single  measures  a 
hundred  times  over  and  over.  I  was  desperate.  We  sent 
hurriedly  below  to  enquire  who  was  the  virtuoso.  Moritz 
Rosenthal!  Now  wait,  I  thought,  you  will  stop  at  once, 
and  I  wrote  him  a  nice  little  note,  begging  him  to  have  regard 
for  my  nerves  of  hearing  as  I  had  to  sing  an  important  role, 
and  I  promised  to  leave  the  field  to  him  at  about  a  quarter 
to  seven.  The  playing  stopped.  When  I  returned  late  from 
the  opera,  I  found  the  following  billet-doux  pushed  under  my 
door: 

HIGHLY  ESTEEMED  PATRONESS  : 

I  am  venturing  to  approach  you  with  a  request.  You  yourself 
have  to-day  set  forth  the  high  consideration  due  to  and  the  impor- 
tance of  undisturbed  sleep,  and  I  have  reduced  my  annoying 
activity  to  a  minimum.  To-morrow  I  have  a  very  complicated 
recital,  and  my  sleeping-room  is  distinguished  by  being  directly 
next  to  yours.  You  will  return  home  late  to-night.  It  is  un- 
necessary for  me  to  quote  the  words  from  Macbeth — "Do  not 
murder  holy  sleep!"  As  supreme  mistress  of  nuances,  will  you 
execute  the  modulation  from  Orpheus  to  Morpheus  pianissimo 
and  con  dolcezza  (still  to-day,  after  many  years,  every  tone  of  the 
Chopin  'Mazurka  that  you  sang  once  in  the  great  hall  of  the 
Musikverein  at  Vienna  is  sounding  in  my  ear  and  heart),  and 
to-morrow,  after  so  many  nights  of  travel,  I  shall  be  able  to 
express  my  thanks  to  you  with  feeling,  and  above  all,  following 
upon  a  good  sleep. 

With  sincere  esteem  for  you  and  your  sister, 
Your  most  devoted, 

MORITZ  ROSENTHAL. 

He  had  no  need  to  make  this  request  of  us,  for  it  was  our 
habit  to  treat  our  neighbours  with  consideration,  and  we  were 
always  as  quiet  as  mice. 

All  had  gone  splendidly  with  me  at  the  opera.  There 
was  only  one  mistake;  I  began  a  recitative  a  third  too  high, 
but  recovered  myself  immediately.  Riezl  sat  behind  the 


Lilli  Lehmann,  Hedwig  Helbig,  and  Baby  at  Scharfling  on  the  Mondsee 

From  an  amateur  photograph 


Scharfling  445 

scenes  to  remind  me,  in  advance,  of  the  coming  part,  that  I 
went  over  at  once,  and  so  did  not  have  to  depend  on  the 
prompter,  who  probably  would  have  forgotten  to  give  it  to 
me  in  time.  I  learned  the  finale  while  Wotan  went  to 
Nibelheim  with  Loge,  and,  during  the  whole  evening,  I  was 
so  calm,  so  confident  that  no  one  would  believe  that  I  had 
learned  four  hundred  words  and  notes  between  half  after 
four  and  eight  o'clock. 

To  whom  God  will  show  favour, 
Him  he  sends  out  into  the  world, 

and  leads  him,  also,  safely  home  again.  This  is  a  proverb 
that  is  peculiarly  applicable  to  the  artist,  and  one  that  often 
makes  him  most  joyful  and  happy.  Much,  indeed,  must  be 
given  up  of  home  comforts  and  old-fashioned  customs,  for 
one  cannot  have  everything  at  the  same  time,  but,  in  ex- 
change, one  gets  a  great  deal  that  is  beautiful  in  this  wide, 
wide  world  that  is  glorious  from  every  blade  of  grass,  every 
meadow,  and  every  animal,  up  to  the  grand  mountains  and 
oceans. 

This  time,  our  return  journey  by  the  new  North  German 
Lloyd  steamship,  the  Kaiser  Friedrich,  was  unparalleled. 
Our  good  humour  was  not  in  the  least  affected  by  the  fact 
that  it  was  slower  than  the  agreement  with  the  builders 
called  for,  as  we  had  a  glorious  time.  If  Captain  Engelbart 
and  his  charming  wife  had  made  delightful  the  crossing  by 
the  Kaiser  Wilhelm,  we  were  encouraged  by  Captain  Stormer 
to  the  craziest  pranks  on  the  return  journey.  The  weather, 
the  ship,  the  table,  the  company,  and  the  captain  were  all 
first-class,  and  the  artists'  mood  so  brilliant  that  everything 
was  swept  away  before  it.  Each  asserted  that  he  had  never 
experienced  anything  like  it,  and  we  maintained  that  the 
conditions  could  never  return  again. 

The  Seamen's  Fund  of  the  crew  deserves  to  be  considered 
and  increased  by  gifts,  for,  on  good  or  bad  voyages,  all  de- 
pends on  the  capabilities  of  those  in  charge.  They  need 


446  My  Path  Through  Life 

continually  all  their  foresight  and  ability,  and  are  exposed  to 
perpetual  dangers  that  often  imperil  their  lives  and  health. 
There  is  frequently  far  more  danger  than  the  passenger  can 
superficially  observe.  How  often,  for  instance,  is  there  a 
fire  in  the  hold  without  any  one  of  the  travellers  suspecting  it, 
and  though  the  blaze  is  almost  invariably  brought  under 
control,  yet  the  crew  is  always  called  on  to  do  important  and 
heavy  work  in  the  exigency. 

How  a  ship  can  be  handled  is  shown  me  by  a  picture  of  the 
Eider  that  I  possess,  which  vessel  struck  on  the  American 
coast,  first  in  a  deluge  of  rain  that  became  an  ice  storm  later. 
The  masts  and  ropes  were  covered  with  a  thick  sheeting  of 
ice,  which  so  weighed  down  the  ship  that,  for  several  days, 
it  was  in  constant  danger  of  careening  at  the  least  breath  of 
wind.  For  fifty  hours  at  a  stretch,  Captain  Helmers  re- 
mained on  the  bridge  in  such  weather.  Many  of  his  men 
got  their  hands,  feet,  and  ears  frozen,  and  what  other 
consequences  followed  cannot  be  told  by  those  who  were  not 
there. 

Only  one  who  has  been  through  as  many  storms  at  sea 
as  I  have  can  estimate  the  dangers,  even  approximately,  that 
these  people  are  exposed  to  in  cold,  wet,  storm,  and  heat. 
Even  the  thoughtlessness  of  the  passengers  is  now  and  then 
broken  in  upon  by  serious  scenes. 

We  were  sitting  one  day  at  noon  in  the  navigation  room 
on  board  the  Saale,  the  ship  with  the  "handsome  crew," 
in  a  merry  company  with  Captain  Richter,  when  the  report 
was  made  to  him  of  "a  ship  in  distress."  Richter  gave  his 
orders,  we  rushed  up  on  the  promenade  deck,  and  saw,  close 
in  front  of  us,  a  three-master  with  hanging  sails,  which  was 
the  signal  of  trouble.  We  had  already  lain  to,  a  boat  had 
been  lowered  at  once,  and  all  had  been  the  work  of  a  moment. 
I  saw,  moreover,  how  the  first  officer  gave  the  young  sailor, 
who  was  engaged  at  it  and  who  did  not  understand  quickly 
enough,  a  tremendous  box  on  the  ear,  and  I  thought  to 
myself  that  no  more  grass  would  grow  on  that  spot.  "That 


Scharfling  447 

is  the  only  language  that  these  lazy  fellows  understand, "  the 
officer  explained  to  me. 

Halfway  to  the  three-master,  our  people  met  a  small 
boat  coming  from  her  with  thirteen  occupants,  the  entire 
crew  of  the  sailing  vessel,  and,  a  few  minutes  later,  they  were 
on  board  our  ship.  While  we  were  already  resuming  our 
voyage,  the  life-boat  was  hoisted  up  again,  and  the  small  boat 
belonging  to  the  stranger  was  left  as  booty  to  the  waves,  and 
remained  visible  for  a  long  time,  dancing  on  their  high  blue 
crests.  The  sailing  ship,  which  was  loaded  with  lumber,  had 
been  driven  about,  rudderless,  on  the  ocean  for  a  week; 
several  English  steamers  had  passed  it  by  without  heeding  its 
signals,  and,  as  usual,  it  was  reserved  for  the  "German"  to 
rescue  the  crew.  This  little  episode,  when  no  human  life  had 
been  lost,  but,  instead,  the  people  who  had  been  exposed  to 
terrible  danger  had  escaped  from  it  happily,  made  a  very 
deep  impression  on  me,  and  put  an  end  to  my  lightheartedness 
for  days. 

On  my  return  journey  on  the  Alter,  and  with  our  most 
beloved  Captain  Christoffers,  there  was  talk  of  icebergs 
before  we  started.  I  had  never  seen  one,  and  I  begged 
Christoffers  to  let  me  know  in  case  we  met  one.  "We  may 
get  one  in  three  days,  between  three  and  four  in  the  after- 
noon, "  he  said,  "for  it  has  been  reported,  but  I  should  prefer 
not  to  encounter  it."  On  the  third  day,  Consul  Dorenberg, 
his  wife,  my  husband,  and  I  were  sitting  together  playing 
scat  behind  an  awning  in  the  afternoon  at  three  o'clock, 
when  I  noticed,  all  at  once,  that  our  steamer  was  turning. 
At  the  same  moment,  one  of  the  crew  appeared,  who  was 
looking  for  me  with  an  order  from  the  captain  requesting 
me  to  go  above,  as  an  iceberg  was  in  sight.  But  I  had  not 
taken  five  steps  when  we  were  suddenly,  in  the  clearest  and 
finest  weather,  enveloped  in  the  densest  fog,  and  could  not 
see  a  yard  ahead.  I  heard  a  voice  above  me  which  I  followed, 
and  dimly  perceived  our  fourth  officer  strapped  to  the  top 
of  the  foremost  mast,  who  called  down  from  there  to  the 


448  My  Path  Through  Life 

captain  his  observations  on  the  fog.  It  was  most  uncom- 
fortable for  about  ten  minutes ;  but,  just  as  suddenly  as  it 
had  come,  the  fog  disappeared,  and,  to  the  left  of  the  ship, 
distant  about  a  maritime  mile,  appeared  a  splendid  iceberg 
as  large  and  high  as  Helgoland,  and  against  its  icy  white 
cliffs  dashed  the  blue  ocean  waves.  It  was  a  wonderful 
spectacle,  which,  unfortunately,  disappeared  very  quickly. 

How  often  have  I  thought  of  it  in  connection  with  the 
frightful  Titanic  disaster,  and  of  the  words  of  dear,  cautious 
Captain  Christoffers,  "I  would  prefer  not  to  meet  it. " 

When  the  ship's  orchestra  began  a  Traviata  potpourri 
at  the  first  dinner,  I  softly  hummed  the  drinking  song  with 
them.  Captain  Stormer,  who  sat  next  me,  glanced  at  me 
out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  "Out  with  it,"  he  said,  "it  is  a 
pity  that  a  single  tone  should  be  lost."  "But  what  would 
the  passengers  say  to  that?"  I  replied.  "Nonsense,  this  is 
my  ship,  and  you  may  sing  here  as  loud  as  you  like!"  So  I 
raised  my  glass  and  sang  the  drinking  song  with  full  voice, 
and  Madames  Meisslinger  and  Pewny,  my  sister,  and  Herr 
Dippel  joined  in  the  refrain.  The  success  of  it  was  startling, 
and  it  was  demanded  da  capo.  From  that  day  forward, 
something  different  was  devised  at  every  dinner.  We 
appeared  at  the  table  decked  out  with  flowers  and  ribbons. 
A  costume  dinner  even  grew  out  of  it,  at  which  Fraulein 
Meisslinger  showed  herself  as  a  female  Mikado,  with  a  huge 
turnip  on  her  head;  Fraulein  Pewny,  as  Germania,  with  an 
imperial  crown  cut  out  of  fresh  pineapple  rind;  Dippel,  with 
a  light  blue  ribbon  about  his  forehead,  to  which  the  pastry 
cook  had  gummed  small  red  and  white  sugar  roses;  I,  with 
a  wreath  of  immense  poppies,  etc.,  each  of  us  being  re- 
ceived with  special  enthusiasm  by  the  delighted  public. 

Every  one  was  assembled  at  the  gala  dinner  and  they  were 
waiting  only  for  the  captain.  He  had  begged  me  to  grant 
him  the  honour  of  escorting  me  downstairs,  for  which  cere- 
mony we  had  both  made  ourselves  very  fine,  and  had  put  on 
all  our  decorations.  Another  time,  I  even  dared  to  arrange 


Lilli  Lehmann  at  Scharfling  on  the  Mondsee 

From  an  amateur  photograph 


Scharfling  449 

a  polonaise  in  the  middle  of  dinner,  in  which  a  number  of 
the  most  elegant  passengers  took  part.  Our  excellent  cap- 
tain fell  from  one  surprise  into  another.  For  the  charity 
concert  we  had  selected  a  very  special  piece  de  resistance,  an 
ensemble  number  that  had  never  been  heard  before  and 
never  will  be  heard  again.  Accompanied  by  the  ship's 
orchestra,  that  was  placed  above  the  dining  saloon,  Dippel 
sang  the  Miserere  from  the  Troubadour,  with  four — think  of 
it! — four  Leonores.  The  applause  was  boundless,  and,  for 
fifty  dollars,  which  some  one  subscribed  for  it  to  hand- 
some Prau  Dippel,  we  repeated  what  had  had  no  previous 
existence. 

The  next  day,  I  wrote  an  address  to  Maestro  Verdi,  in- 
forming him  of  the  improvement  of  his  old  masterpiece, 
which,  I  wager,  must  have  caused  him  unfeigned  astonish- 
ment. An  infant  prodigy  should  have  opened  the  concert 
with  a  piano  piece,  but  he  had  gone  to  bed,  and  our  amiable 
impresario,  the  witty  steel  magnate,  Andrew  Carnegie,  de- 
scribed the  circumstance  in  such  an  extremely  comical  fashion 
that  every  one  burst  out  laughing,  and  so  the  way  was 
prepared  for  the  "Animo."  The  receipts  amounted  to  3000 
marks,  which  we  presented  to  the  jovial  captain  for  the 
often  sorely-tried  crew. 

I  studied,  on  the  way  back,  the  r61e  of  Irmentraut  in  the 
Waffenschmied,  and  it  happened  thus.  The  more  I  dis- 
covered the  province  of  the  aged  characters  of  opera  to  be 
neglected,  the  more  strongly  did  I  recall  Frau  Gunther- 
Bachmann's  excellent  impersonations  at  Leipsic.  I  had  long 
cherished  the  idea  of  demonstrating,  at  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity, that  it  would  repay  even  those  who  were  still  young 
to  occupy  themselves  with  such  r61es.  I  discussed  the  idea 
with  the  dear  youngest  son  of  my  former  highly-esteemed 
chief,  Georg  von  Hulsen,  who  offered  to  bring  me  out  as 
Irmentraut  in  the  Waffenschmied  at  the  next  May  Festival, 
in  1899,  when  I  also  sang  the  Ring.  I  cannot  judge  how  it 

29 


450  My  Path  Through  Life 

succeeded,  but  it  gave  me  pleasure.  I  doubt  whether  it  ful- 
filled the  special  object,  which  was  to  stimulate  my  women 
colleagues  to  imitate  it.  Artists  of  my  sex  always  prefer  to 
appear  younger  and  prettier  than  they  are,  rather  than 
older  and  less  beautiful,  while,  to  me,  it  was  all  one.  So  my 
good  example,  that  probably  was  termed  a  "whim,"  ran 
away  to  nothing  in  the  sand,  like  so  much  else  that  I  under- 
took from  artistic  interest  and  that  was  not  understood  by 
others.  What  a  pity  for  art,  out  of  love  for  which  I  do  so 
much  and  others  so  little. 

To  cross  the  ocean  at  the  end  of  April,  in  the  finest 
weather,  to  enjoy  the  "Emperor"  festival  in  the  middle  of 
May  at  blooming  Wiesbaden,  to  apply  one's  self  to  one's  vo- 
cation during  an  unusually  beautiful  June  in  the  far-west 
district  of  London,  at  the  Kensington  Palace  Hotel,  with  a 
view  of  the  Park  and  in  perfect  quiet,  is  indeed  an  enviable 
lot,  even  if  the  artistic  work  does  not  pause  for  a  minute. 
Perhaps  it  is  just  this,  allotted  only  to  the  artist  in  happy 
combination,  that  is  such  a  blessing,  even  when  his  soul  is  in 
a  tumult  with  what  is  hard  to  bear,  and  struggles  painfully 
for  clarification. 

The  Metropolitan  Opera  Company,  under  Grau's 
management,  had  found  itself,  after  a  month,  gathered 
together  here  again  in  almost  its  full  complement,  and 
splendid  productions  were  given.  Fidelio,  Walkure,  Lohen- 
grin, Norma,  Don  Juan,  and  Tristan  I  sang  under  Muck 
and  Mancinelli.  I  lived  as  a  strict  vegetarian,  moreover,  ate 
extremely  little  and  felt  very  well,  in  spite  of  all  the  exertion 
at  the  theatre  and  literary  labour  at  the  house,  for  my  book, 
How  to  Sing,  demanded  to  be  completed. 

I  scarcely  saw  even  the  Dippels,  whose  rooms  adjoined 
mine.  Nearly  every  evening,  a  street  singer  below  my  win- 
dow began  to  sing  Italian  arias  and  English  songs  about  ten 
o'clock  or  even  later,  and  I  listened  with  the  greatest  interest. 
A  man  accompanied  her  on  a  tin  pan,  which  he  carried  on  his 
arm.  The  voice  had  a  tremolo  in  the  lower  tones,  but  it 


Scharfling  451 

sounded  very  well  in  the  upper  registers,  and,  as  the  melodies 
she  sang  were  always  good,  I  took  pleasure  in  hearing  her  in 
my  solitude,  from  one  unoccupied  evening  to  another.  I 
had  her  come  up  to  me  once — a  woman  of  perhaps  forty-five, 
not  inelegant.  She  had  been  a  singer,  and  now  earned  her 
bread  in  this  way.  How  very  happy  a  poor  person  can  still 
be,  if  he  has  a  voice  he  calls  his  own  in  which  to  put  his  soul, 
and  to  share  it  with  others  to  delight  and  to  make  them 
happy. 

I  had  scarcely  arrived  in  Grunewald,  when  a  telegram 
summoned  me  to  a  concert  at  Ostend.  One  must  have 
enjoyed,  as  I  did,  its  glorious  breakers  and  mirages  to  do  it 
justice  at  all.  For  hours  I  walked  by  the  sea  that  is  always 
the  same  and  yet  ever  different,  and  that  one  is  never  weary 
of  gazing  at.  Nirvana  took  possession  of  the  powers  of 
thought  when  one  stared  into  the  ever-surging  sea,  and,  with 
this  rest,  returned  the  consciousness  of  invigoration,  that  fits 
us  for  new  effort.  Freed  from  every  contact  with  mankind, 
I  pursued  tone  studies  for  hours,  and  fixed  my  thoughts  on 
those  tone  sensations,  the  origin  and  production  of  which 
I  finally  brought  to  expression  in  my  book,  How  to 
Sing. 

The  yearning  for  Parsifal  led  me  straight  from  the  sea- 
shore to  Bayreuth,  where  I  met  Riezl,  and  also  heard  the 
Meister  singer.  The  latter  left  me  entirely  unsatisfied,  as  it 
lacked  naturalness,  warmth,  and  feeling  for  which  I  longed. 
How  much  I  was  chilled  by  the  unnatural,  heartless  im- 
pression may  be  gauged,  perhaps,  when  I  say  that,  in  the 
"Awake"  chorus  in  the  last  scene,  a  chorus  girl,  by  just  one 
gesture  springing  from  the  heart  that  she  made  towards 
Hans  Sachs,  freed  me  at  last  from  the  cold  weight, — it  might 
be  appropriately  called  "ensemble  weight," — and  I  was  able 
to  breathe  again  after  a  mood  of  incredible  boredom.  Milka 
Ternina  stood  pre-eminent  in  Parsifal,  and  the  choruses  of 
the  flower  maidens  and  the  knights  of  the  Grail  were  very 
effective. 


452  My  Path  Through  Life 

With  Amfortas  may  I  say  that  bathing  in  the  clear, 
green-blue  waters  of  the  Mondsee  "refreshed "  me.  I  was  so 
ungrateful  as  to  find  it  more  beautiful  than  the  home  waters 
of  the  Halensee,  that  permitted  me  to  learn  to  swim  and  to 
swim  alone  at  the  age  of  fifty,  and  the  brown  moor  water  of 
which  I  visited  diligently  if  the  ocean,  sea,  or  the  mountain 
lakes  were  not  at  my  command.  But  the  Mondsee  has  its 
freaks  also.  Rain  began,  and,  with  the  rapidly  rising  lake, 
rose  our  fear  of  danger. 

Two  years  previously,  we  had  a  foretaste  of  a  flood  at  the 
inn,  and  it  was  said  that  it  had  not  happened  before  for 
thirty  years.  This  time  it  was  to  be  still  worse.  We  were 
completely  enclosed  by  water  on  the  twelfth  rainy  day,  while 
the  deluge  continued  to  fall  from  the  sky,  and  the  tempest 
lashed  the  waves  against  our  little  house,  into  which  we  had 
just  moved,  and  which  already  stood  a  metre  deep  in  water. 
The  Ischl  railroad,  as  well  as  the  steamboat,  had  stopped 
running,  and  we  were  cut  off  from  all  communication.  Our 
boat,  the  only  anchor  of  salvation,  was  full  of  water;  some 
oars,  and  hundreds  of  tree  trunks  had  floated  down,  and 
beat  against  our  house  at  night,  and  the  lake  had  risen  nearly 
three  metres.  At  last  the  rain  ceased  about  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  the  first  star  became  visible,  and  that  gave  us 
the  hope  that  the  danger  was  past.  "This  is  a  crazy  place," 
said  one  of  our  Berlin  maids,  as  she  saw  fresh  snow  "in  sum- 
mer "  on  the  mountains  the  next  morning.  Field-mice,  moles, 
and  other  animals  had  fled  to  our  little  terrace,  where  we  fed 
them  with  stale  bread  and  scraps  of  meat.  Then  they  swam 
away  again  in  search  of  their  old  homes  and  families,  until, 
like  the  swallows,  they  fell  a  sacrifice  to  the  ice-cold  water. 
How  much  I  wished  to  teach  them  to  consider  our  little 
house  as  Noah's  ark,  but  they  would  not  be  treated  with,  and 
compelled  me  to  leave  them  to  their  will  and  their  fate. 
They  will  not  be  coerced  and,  in  that  respect,  are  in  no  wise 
different  from  human  beings. 

From  this  time  forward,  I  appeared  only  as  a  star  in  my 


Scharfling  453 

great  roles  in  Berlin,  Vienna,  Wiesbaden,  and  Dresden,  and 
gave  song  recitals  in  France  and  Germany.  The  winter  of 
1900  and  1901  took  me  once  more,  for  four  months  of  con- 
certs, to  the  United  States.  According  to  my  intentions,  it 
will  remain,  in  spite  of  all  offers  and  promises,  my  last  journey 
across  the  ocean,  which  I  have  crossed  eighteen  times. 

I  had  neglected  to  see  California ;  I  postponed  it  from  one 
year  to  another,  and  in  vain  did  Henry  Villard  offer  me  his 
private  car  for  the  journey.  My  work  did  not  permit  of  it 
during  the  season,  and  afterward  the  longing  for  home  was 
always  far  stronger  than  the  desire  for  California. 


Salzburg 

MIGHTY  spirits  appear  in  every  sphere  of  life,  like  heavy 
storm  clouds  in  which  dwell  impalpable  forces,  and 
as  soon  as  they  meet  with  propitious  resistance  for  their 
action,  like  the  lightning  stroke,  they  deliver  themselves 
and  all  those  who  anticipated,  hoped  for,  and  had  a  presenti- 
ment of  their  "Messiah."  Thus  Beethoven  seems  to  me; 
a  thunder-storm  which,  upon  its  discharge,  according  to  the 
individual  needs  of  the  listener,  either  alarms  him  or  illu- 
minates him  with  blinding  power.  I  may  also  call  Richard 
Wagner  a  thunderstorm,  for  he  not  only  destroyed,  as  people 
are  inclined  to  say  with  reiteration,  but  was  also  beneficent  in 
many  respects,  and  the  most  annihilating  verdict  cannot 
cause  him  to  disappear  from  the  history  of  the  great  periods  of 
music.  The  discharge  of  his  power  operated  on  his  contem- 
poraries with  an  electrifying,  and,  whether  it  was  or  was  not 
desired,  illuminating  effect  on  the  judgment  of  the  best  of  his 
time  in  that  he  brought  out  more  appreciably  the  simple 
greatness,  the  healthy  divine  genius  of  Mozart,  and  made  it 
seem  the  more  worthy  of  being  worshipped. 

It  is  healthy,  that's  what  it  is!  Mozart's  genius  is 
healthy,  and  what  he  has  given  us  is  untainted.  Mozart 
blesses  and  soothes  without  ignoring  sorrow  and  tears,  which 
he  has  portrayed  in  his  greatness  so  simply  and  sublimely. 

Very  often  have  I  felt  and  said  how  profoundly  Richard 
Wagner's  music  stirred  up  my  inmost  soul,  even  making  me 
ill,  because  his  tone  painting,  that  ensnares  the  senses,  seems 

454 


Salzburg  455 

to  find  its  field  only  in  exciting  the  nerves  of  the  hearer  to  the 
extremest  tension,  and  the  strongest  must  fall  a  sacrifice  to 
this  if  he  be  not  able  to  withdraw  from  the  influence  of  such 
a  mighty  genius  as  Wagner.  And  that  he  was  mighty,  is, 
and  long  will  continue  to  be,  his  successors  certainly  cannot 
alter. 

All  of  this  was  not  required  to  make  me  ever  aware  that 
Mozart  was  a  guardian  angel  against  the  false,  the  immoder- 
ate, or  the  unhealthy.  Never  had  I  forgotten,  with  all  my 
enthusiasm,  all  my  love  for  the  great  and  the  new,  to  recog- 
nise him  as  the  supreme  benefactor  of  singers  and  musicians. 
And  this  conviction  Wagner  could  not  shut  out  from  himself t 
or  why  did  he,  over  and  over  again,  come  back  in  his  con- 
versations to  Mozart. 

He  was  the  guide,  whom  my  mother  had  taught  me  to 
follow  from  childhood,  and  he  led  me,  also,  past  other  great 
and  strong  forces  where  I  would  gladly  have  lingered,  who 
attracted  me  by  their  power  and  their  expression,  teaching 
me  by  their  very  excesses  to  discover  my  own  soul  life.  But 
they  could  never  estrange  me  from  Mozart,  and  they  should 
— if  my  wishes,  that  are  rooted  deep  within  me,  are  fulfilled — 
do  him  service  a  thousandfold,  determining  me  to  teach 
further  in  his  spirit  what  I  have  acquired  through  them.  I 
may  still  set  for  myself  tasks  of  the  highest  sacrifice,  which, 
far  removed  from  egotism  and  party  strife,  may  be  of  value 
to  his  pure  art  alone. 

So,  at  the  conclusion  of  this  book,  I  have  arrived  at 
Mozart,  my  musical  haven,  and  I  turn  back  to  him,  to  Salz- 
burg, where  stood  his  cradle,  and  where  homage  is  paid  him. 
There  in  love,  purity,  and  veneration  inspired  artists  present 
his  living  works  to  the  Mozart  Society.  I  shall  turn  the 
light  on  what  has  taken  place  there  up  to  the  present,  and 
will  show  what  it  was  that  we  artists  hoped,  desired,  and  were 
able  to  create. 

I  could  not  respond  to  the  first  call  to  Salzburg.  If  I 
remember  aright,  it  concerned  then  the  Countess  in  Figaro, 


456  My  Path  Through  Life 

which  I  had  never  sung  as  yet.  The  part  had  long  been 
amongst  those  I  wished  to  do,  but  I  did  not  want  to  sing  it 
just  there  for  the  first  time,  but  to  ripen  it,  to  grow  into  it 
before  I  thought  of  bringing  it  to  Mozart.  I  learn,  through 
my  sister,  that  she  sang  Elvira  in  Don  Juan  about  that  time, 
with  Marie  Wilt  as  Donna  Anna,  and  Vogl  as  Don  Octavio, 
and  that  Hans  Richter  conducted  the  opera.  A  crowd  of 
artists  did  not  unite  again  for  the  festival  until  about  1901, 
at  which  time  I  joined  them  as  Donna  Anna  in  Don  Juan. 
Don  Juan  was  taken  by  Josef  Ritter,  Leporello  by  Hes, 
Elvira  by  Edith  Walker,  all  members  of  the  Vienna  Court 
Opera,  Zerline  by  Erika  Wedekind  of  Dresden,  and  Comtur 
by  Klopfer  of  Munich,  an  unusually  gifted  young  artist,  who 
died  suddenly  soon  after.  Hummel,  the  director  of  the  Mo- 
zarteum,  led  the  festival.  We  got  together  there  for  only 
two  rehearsals,  and  yet  the  performance  was  one  that  must 
remain,  in  many  respects,  unforgotten. 

At  that  time,  I  took  part  in  the  work  only  as  a  singer,  but 
my  attention  was  drawn  to  much  of  which  I  had  had,  pre- 
viously, no  idea.  I  saw  how  much  there  was  to  be  done  right 
here  in  Mozart's  city,  and  how  necessary  it  was  that  practical 
artists  should  take  up  the  cause  of  Mozart,  that  included 
ideal  tasks  in  rendering  assistance  of  various  kinds — cul- 
minating in  the  fund  for  the  Mozart  school,  festivals,  and 
concert  performances,  the  purchase  of  Mozart's  birth  house, 
etc.  But  with  all  the  love  and  joyous  sacrifice  of  the  splen- 
did, artistically  sensitive  committee  at  Salzburg,  there  was 
a  lack  of  money  for  everything,  for  establishing  an  imperish- 
able, ever  self-renewing  monument  to  Mozart's  greatness, 
that  is,  an  endowment  that  would  assure  the  school,  the 
festivals,  etc.,  for  all  time. 

For  Mozart  must  remain  the  standard  for  perfect  music 
that  elevates  men  and  makes  them  happy.  Who  is  more 
worthy  of  this  than  he  and  his  works?  Should  not  associa- 
tions, led  by  practical  men  in  all  countries  of  the  world  and 
especially  in  Austria  and  Germany,  take  an  interest  in 


Salzburg  457 

working  for  him?  How  wretched  is  still  the  prospect  of 
ideal  participation  in  artistic  work  with  us  if  no  aid  is  forth- 
coming to  lighten,  for  Salzburg,  its  greatest  task;  it  is  a 
mere  trifle  for  a  couple  of  hundred  people  to  put  their  hands 
in  their  pockets  and  give  a  part  of  what  they  have  in  super- 
fluity. In  truth,  the  artist,  even  though  he  be  a  beggar,  is 
by  comparison  a  spendthrift,  for  he  gives  out  of  a  full  heart 
and,  at  the  very  least, — his  art. 

Until  Mozart's  I5oth  birthday,  which  fell  in  1906,  no 
more  great  festivals  were  held,  but  I  succeeded  in  having  his 
Requiem  produced  about  1902  in  the  cathedral,  when  the 
Vicar-General  celebrated  the  Mass  for  the  dead.  It  was 
an  inexpressibly  moving  ceremony,  that  took  complete  hold 
of  me  at  least.  My  wish  that  the  Requiem  might  be  given 
there  annually  in  a  church,  on  some  special  day  during  the 
tourist  season,  has  not  yet  been  fulfilled.  This  is  the  work, 
reminding  us  of  Mozart's  deepest  suffering,  that  should  be 
to  his  Salzburg  as  an  offering  for  all  time,  so  that  he  may  not 
be  forgotten.  Let  us  hope  that  the  discernment  of  this 
necessity  will  not  be  shut  out,  even  though  there  be  danger 
that  Salzburg  might,  thereby,  be  put  to  expense.  Artists 
will  always  be  found  ready  to  co-operate  without  remunera- 
tion. I  have  tried  successfully  what  can  be  done  in  this 
respect.  Helpers  will  surely  arise  on  all  sides  if  Salzburg's 
festivals  are  once  definitely  organised,  and  if  the  certainty 
as  well  as  the  necessity  of  them  becomes  known  in  all  edu- 
cated ranks  of  the  Mozart  cult. 

I  was  able,  about  1903,  to  add  something  to  the  Mozart 
Fund  by  a  song  recital,  and,  in  1904,  a  small  music  festival 
was  given  in  the  glorious  hall  (Aula),  that  consisted  of  four 
concerts  conducted  by  Mottl  and  Hummel.  The  Vienna 
Philharmonic  and  the  Fitzner  Quartet  played,  and  Hedwig 
Helbig  and  I  sang  arias  and  duets.  In  the  impressive  Mass 
in  C  minor,  that  was  given  here  for  the  first  time  in  Alois 
Schmidt's  edition,  the  solos  were  sung  by  Frau  Hilgermanrt 
and  by  me,  as  well  as  by  Herr  Dippel  and  Herr  Sieglitz. 


458  My  Path  Through  Life 

The  C  minor  Mass,  which  seems  in  my  opinion  to  be 
rather  modern  in  its  instrumentation,  took  too  deep  hold  on 
me,  and  I  had  to  put  compulsion  on  myself  so  as  not  to  be 
overcome  by  my  emotion.  How  the  first  soprano  solo,  that 
is  repeated  at  the  end  with  different  words,  can  grip  one,  I 
learned  in  Paris,  also,  when  we  gave  some  portions  of  the 
Mass  under  Reynaldo  Hahn's  leadership,  and  this  solo  was 
specially  applauded.  The  performance  of  the  Mass  was 
repeated  at  Salzburg,  in  1907,  on  the  occasion  of  the  sixtieth 
anniversary  of  the  Liedertafel  (Singing  Society),  when  it  left 
on  me  the  same  great  impression. 

The  first  time,  even  the  Prince-Archbishop  was  present 
with  Archduke  Eugen,  the  noble  protector  of  the  Mozart 
cult,  and  the  former  spoke  enthusiastically  of  the  per- 
formance. Sufficient  acknowledgment  cannot  be  given  to 
Director  Hummel,  whom  I  desired  to  retain  permanently  for 
Salzburg  and  Mozart's  music,  for  the  splendid  preparation 
of  his  choruses  and  the  whole  church  music.  May  he  instruct 
many  more  young  people  in  the  right  way,  and  posterity  will 
gain  by  it. 

The  great  festival  of  1906,  which  was  to  be  given,  not  on 
the  birthday  itself,  but  in  the  middle  of  summer,  was  to 
consist  of  performances  of  various  Mozart  operas  by  court 
opera-houses,  such  as  Vienna,  Berlin,  Munich,  and  Dresden, 
and  each  was  to  give  the  best  with  its  own  talent  that  it  was 
capable  of.  This  was  a  wonderful  scheme,  that  went  to 
pieces  from  its  very  grandeur.  None  of  the  court  theatres, 
would  consent,  and  only  Vienna  had  two  Mozart  operas  in 
view,  so  grand  concerts  were  arranged  for  four  days  which 
famous  conductors  "promised"  to  lead.  Josef  Joachim  and 
I  were  to  watch  over  the  programmes  for  the  concerts;  I 
had  pledged  myself  to  assist  here  and  there,  but  Joachim 
declined. 

His  Majesty,  Emperor  Franz  Joseph,  with  true  imperial 
generosity,  had  put  at  our  service  without  cost  the  whole 
Vienna  Court  Opera  Company,  with  scenery  and  costumes 


Salzburg  459 

and  the  entire  technical  apparatus.  Mahler  should  have 
chosen  the  operas  in  January,  but  deferred  it  to  April  because 
not  all  the  newly  prepared  Mozart  operas  had  yet  been 
brought  out  at  Vienna.  He  thought,  however,  that  he 
would  have  in  view  a  choice  between  Don  Juan,  Cosi  fan 
tutte,  and  Figaro.  Salzburg  now  approached  me  with  the 
query,  whether  I  would  undertake  to  get  up  a  Mozart  opera. 
I  had  thought,  in  the  first  place,  of  the  Zauberflote,  and  the 
idea  was  very  sympathetic  to  me.  A  Zauberflote  perform- 
ance, as  it  hovered  before  me,  with  the  naive  text  and  the 
fascinating  music  that  comprised  so  many  reminiscences  of 
my  earliest  youth!  The  mature  appreciation  of  Mozart's 
greatness,  the  many  emotions  of  the  soul,  and  the  artistic 
memories,  especially,  would  have  made  it  a  task  suited  to  me. 
But  the  undertaking  had  to  be  weighed.  If  I  could  get  the 
artists  for  the  caste,  yet  the  scenery,  which  I  conceived  as 
very  primitive  and  naive  was  not  there,  and  the  necessary 
rehearsals  were,  perhaps,  impossible.  To  burden  the  Mozart 
Fund  with  debts,  instead  of  strengthening  it,  I  considered 
out  of  the  question.  And  already  refusals  poured  in  from 
various  artists,  on  whose  co-operation  I  had  counted  in  case 
the  plan  should  be  realised. 

April  had  arrived,  meanwhile,  and  it  was  high  time  a 
decision  was  made.  Mahler,  who  was  still  wavering,  was 
certain  of  only  one  thing — that  Don  Juan  was  out  of  the 
running.  Then  I  acted  promptly.  We  had  entirely  new 
scenery  for  Don  Juan  left  from  1901  which  had  not  been 
used  since  that  festival.  I  could  provide  the  caste,  which 
was  not  quite  so  difficult  as  that  of  the  Zauberflote.  The 
people  at  Salzburg  took  hold  with  both  hands,  and  the  pro- 
duction of  Don  Juan  was  a  determined  fact.  It  was  of 
moment  to  me  to  find  those  who  were  to  co-operate  in  it  in 
my  neighbourhood,  so  that  I  could  try  the  r61es  with  them 
and  eventually  study  them,  and  I  gave  my  invitations  with 
that  in  view. 

In  this  way  I  could  easily  go  to  Salzburg  with  the  en- 


460  My  Path  Through  Life 

semble  quite  ready,  where  I  hoped  to  get  on  well  with  two  or 
three  stage  rehearsals,  in  addition  to  several  chorus  and 
scenic  rehearsals  for  each  performance,  which  I  calculated 
upon  having  without  the  soloists.  The  love  for  Mozart, 
and  the  pleasure  of  being  heard  by  a  thoroughly  intelligent 
audience,  had  to  assist  in  removing  the  chief  obstacles  that 
lay  in  the  fact  that  the  festival  came  in  the  vacation  time 
of  all  the  artists,  and  hence  involved  a  sacrifice  that  only  I,  as 
an  artist,  could  fully  estimate. 

The  multifarious  new  German  translations  of  the  Don 
Juan  libretto  troubled  me  grievously  because  a  different  one 
is  sung  at  each  opera-house — be  it  Levi,  Grandauer,  or 
Kahlbeck.  Only  too  often  has  the  stupidity  been  perpe- 
trated of  translating  the  Italian  text  literally,  so  that  not 
one  of  the  original  Mozart  accents  falls  properly,  as,  if  I 
should  sing  in  Italian  crude  le  and  in  German  graus  a  mer,  it 
would  be  simply  impossible.  And  the  new  text  is  im- 
possible throughout.  There  has  been  no  hesitation  about 
changing  many  notes  and  composing  new  ones  in  order  to 
shift  the  accents,  and  from  one  consideration  or  another  it 
has  not  occurred  to  any  one  to  protest  against  this.  I  would 
rather  have  an  "old-accustomed"  copy  less  correctly  trans- 
lated, with  the  word  falling  with  the  original  note,  from 
which  one  knows  what  has  been  the  custom  for  generations, 
than  one  only  too  accurately  translated,  grafted  on  the  origi- 
nal composition  and  unsuitable,  that  sounds  strange  to  us 
and  therefore  all  the  worse.  The  same  word  carries  with  it 
other  meanings  and  other  values  in  each  different  language, 
and  hence  there  can  be  no  question  of  wholly  correct  trans- 
lations of  ideas. 

Reichmann  and  I  sang  the  old  text  in  Don  Juan,  and 
when  I  asked  Mahler  why  he  did  not  have  that  sung  every- 
where, if  he  was  not  concerned  with  the  new,  he  said:  "You 
may  use  the  old  text,  for  my  part,  and  by  degrees  it  will 
come  back  into  fashion  again,  but  I  cannot  insist  upon  it 
directly. "  Mahler  requested  me  to  sing  the  Countess  in  the 


Salzburg  461 

newly-studied  Figaro,  and,  as  a  favour  to  him,  I  should  have 
learned  the  recitative  with  the  text  that  was  strange  to  me, — 
he  did  not  insist  on  the  new  text  for  the  ensemble  numbers. 
It  did  not  take  place,  however,  because  first,  I  was  too  busy, 
and  second,  I  would  not  have  appeared  on  any  account  in 
the  costume  then  used  for  the  Countess,  which  was  more 
like  one  for  an  aged  great-grandmother  than  for  the  lively 
Rosine,  Countess  Almaviva. 

Would  it  not  be  really  best  to  preserve  the  old  Rochlitz 
text,  and  here  and  there  to  substitute  better  words  for  those 
that  have  acquired  a  commonplace  sound — as  has  indeed 
always  been  done — and  to  expunge  some  bad-sounding 
phrases  in  the  recitatives?  If  the  translators  were  only 
clever  enough  to  perceive,  themselves,  what  little  success 
they  have  had  in  supplanting  the  dear,  familiar  text  with  a 
new  and  unaccustomed  one,  they  would  boldly  withdraw  the 
translations,  and  they  would  be  the  recipients  of  universal 
thanks.  They  may  say  what  they  will,  they  may  wish  to  be 
or  really  be  ever  so  clever — it  is  not  our  old  Mozart  any  more ; 
him  they  have  successfully  exchanged  for  us  and  have 
ruined  him  by  modernising. 

In  order  to  avoid  the  evils  of  the  text,  I  decided  to  have 
Don  Juan  sung  in  Italian.  Schuch  had  already  refused  me 
several  times  when  I  had  asked  him  to  conduct  Salzburg 
festivals,  because  they  always  fell  in  his  brief  leave-of -ab- 
sence period;  Mottl  could  pledge  himself  this  time  for  only 
one  concert;  Muck  was  bound  to  Bayreuth,  so  it  was  best 
to  make  sure  of  Reynaldo  Hahn,  with  whom  we  had  just 
done  the  whole  of  Don  Juan  three  times  in  concerts  at  Paris, 
who  had  rehearsed  and  conducted  it  from  memory,  and  who 
accepted  the  invitation.  After  many  refusals  for  hundreds 
of  reasons,  my  caste  was  as  follows: 


Don    Juan — Francesco    d'An- 
drade,  Berlin. 

Comtur — Gerhard  Stehmann, 
Vienna. 


Masetto — Anton  Moser, 

Vienna. 

Donna  Anna — Lilli  Lehmann, 
Berlin. 


462  My  Path  Through  Life 


Octavio — Georg  Maikl, 


Vienna. 


Leporello — Hermann  Brag, 


Berlin. 


Donna    Elvira — Johanna 

Gadski-Tauscher,  New  York. 
Zerline — Geraldine  Farrar, 

New  York. 


Mahler  had  also  decided  definitely  upon  Figaros  Hochzeit, 
but  his  stipulations  caused  much  brain  racking  at  Salzburg. 
He  had  things  easy.  The  opera  had  just  been  prepared  at 
Vienna  with  from  forty  to  forty-six  rehearsals,  and  had 
already  been  given  fully  as  many  times.  The  enormous 
expenses  were  paid  by  the  Emperor,  and  Mahler  only  had  to 
press  an  electric  button  in  order  to  issue  his  commands.  His 
functionaries  at  Vienna,  as  well  as  the  committee  at  Salz- 
burg, had  to  make  all  the  preparations;  the  performance  of 
Figaro  was  given  "by  command,"  and  that  of  Don  Juan 
because  of  love  for  Mozart  and  deference  to  me.  The  small 
and  charming  Salzburg  Theatre — I  never  wished  a  larger 
one  for  Mozart's  operas — was  leased  to  a  director,  so  it  had 
to  be  rented  from  him  by  the  committee  for  5000  crowns 
during  the  time  of  the  festival.  Mahler  demanded  four 
whole  days  for  the  scenic  arrangements  for  Figaro,  as  every- 
thing that  was  there  had  to  be  removed  from  the  theatre, 
and  the  Figaro  furnishings  had  to  be  taken  in. 

There  remained  over  for  me  only  August  I2th  and  I3th 
for  the  Don  Juan  rehearsals.  It  had  to  be  done  that  way, 
and  I  was  prepared  for  it.  From  the  day  of  the  decision,  that 
is,  from  May  4th  until  July  2Oth,  I  played  and  sang  daily 
for  many  hours  with  one  artist  or  another.  Nearly  all  of 
them  came  to  me,  and  sometimes  I  had  four  or  five  assembled 
together.  I  drew  for  each  a  scenario  according  to  the  exist- 
ing stage-setting;  all  brought  to  the  matter  self-sacrificing 
love  and  untiring  diligence.  My  drawing-room  was  our 
stage,  where  we  rehearsed  every  day  with  all  the  requisites. 

How  much  time  and  strength  would  be  saved  to  a  caste 
of  artists  if,  instead  of  always  and  every  day  going  through 
the  whole  work,  the  rehearsals  were  divided  into  scenes,  so 


Salzburg  463 

that  everything  would  be  prepared  in  single  parts  until  the 
last  ensemble  and  stage  rehearsals.  The  artists  would  bring 
more  freshness  and  spirit  to  their  work,  and  would  learn  far 
more  than  when  they  are  obliged  to  stand  about  idle  for 
hours  at  the  rehearsals,  or  are  compelled  to  repeat  a  dozen 
times  the  most  difficult  passages  on  account  of  a  super  who 
holds  a  lance  crooked,  and  who  seems  to  the  stage  manager 
to  be  endangering  the  "ensemble."  The  artists  might  help 
themselves  rationally  and  effectively  in  this  respect  if  they  en- 
ergetically defended  themselves  against  unnecessary  fatigue 
and  waste  of  strength.  During  the  three  and  a  half  months 
of  rehearsing,  the  endless  repetitions  never  wearied  or  irritated 
the  artists  or  myself;  on  the  contrary,  the  oftener  I  heard  the 
opera  the  keener  was  my  interest,  and  when  the  performances 
were  over  I  should  have  liked  to  begin  them  all  again. 

In  spite  of  study,  there  always,  naturally,  remained  much 
to  be  desired  of  each  individual  interpretation.  An  immense 
amount  of  material  for  each  r61e  lay  garnered  up  in  my 
memory.  Had  I  not  seen  for  almost  fifty  years  all  the  Don 
Juan  performances  everywhere,  with  the  most  eminent 
Italian  and  German  impersonators?  Everything  that  was 
pregnant  and  subtle  had  stayed  by  me.  My  own  individual- 
ity created,  from  the  many  admirable  representations  I  had 
seen,  ideal  figures,  to  which  only  a  few  artists  of  the  present 
day  are  equal!  But  my  thirst  for  perfection  in  myself  and 
others  was  always  so  great  that  no  trouble  seemed  to  me  too 
much  for  the  attainment,  in  conjunction  with  my  colleagues, 
of  the  utmost  possible.  I  calculated  upon  that,  and  the 
calculation  was  verified.  The  most  famous  ensembles  are 
never  really  perfect.  Ensemble!  A  comfortable  word  for 
describing  tedious,  monotonous  performances,  from  which 
every  spark  of  individual  conception  on  the  part  of  the 
artist  has  been  blithely  frightened  out  of  him, — so  as  to 
show  off  the  scenery  and  general  effect. 

Mahler  brought  a  double  caste  for  Figaro,  while  I  could 
count  on  only  one,  and  the  summer  season  was  of  use  to  me 


464  My  Path  Through  Life 

in  that  respect.  All  the  same,  our  Leporello  arrived  with  an 
attack  of  typhoid  fever,  which  he  had  got  from  bad  crab 
soup,  and  he  had  to  sing  whether  he  wished  or  not.  The 
chorus  was  supplied  by  the  Salzburg  Singing  Society, 
amateurs  from  amongst  the  citizens.  The  ladies  and  gentle- 
men did  admirably  what  they  undertook,  were  unconstrained 
and  varied  in  their  gestures,  and  fitted  delightfully,  with 
their  natural  cheerfulness  and  a  certain  bearing  that  did  not 
smack  of  the  stage,  into  the  rustic  atmosphere  of  Zerline  and 
Masetto,  and  thus  into  the  frame  of  my  ideas  for  the  produc- 
tion of  Don  Juan  in  such  a  dainty  theatre. 

There  was  not  a  minute  missed  from  July  2Oth  to  August 
I4th,  for  we  rehearsed  incessantly  now  here,  now  there. 
Professor  Roller  offered  us  a  helping  hand  at  the  scenic  re- 
hearsals, and  even  lent  us  various  illuminating  apparatus, 
none  of  which  we  had.  D'Andrade,  as  Don  Juan,  did  not 
come  until  the  last  rehearsal,  and  as  he,  notwithstanding  the 
most  chevalier-like  amiability,  sang  "his  tempi"  in  all  the 
ensembles  without  troubling  about  the  others,  incongruities 
unfortunately  resulted  that  none  of  us  succeeded  in  averting. 

I  could  not,  for  instance,  convince  my  dear  colleague  that 
the  customary  change  of  tempo  marking  "Allegro"  in  the  duet 
with  Zerline  was  wrong.  It  indicates  nothing  but  a  change  of 
beat,  and  the  French  knew  this  before  we  did,  as  the  original 
score  of  Don  Juan,  that  belonged  to  Frau  Garcia  Viardot, 
now  has  passed  as  a  heritage  to  the  Conservatory  at  Paris. 
Still  another  circumstance  worked  disturbingly  on  the  equa- 
nimity of  Reynaldo  Hahn.  Mahler  had  seated  the  musi- 
cians differently,  on  account  of  better  acoustics,  at  the  last 
rehearsal  for  Figaro,  and  Hahn,  who  conducted  Don  Juan 
that  same  evening,  had  not  been  informed  of  it.  When  he 
began  the  overture,  and  did  not  find  the  musicians,  to  whom 
he  wished  to  signal,  in  their  accustomed  places,  he  was 
thunderstruck  for  a  moment.  Such  a  sin  of  omission  might 
have  had  very  serious  consequences  for  a  less  eminent 
routinier  and  maestro. 


Salzburg  465 

I  protest  that  such  an  occasion  would  not  be  possible  in 
France.  Each  one  gave  for  Mozart  what  had  filled  out  his 
artistic  life  until  then,  and  it  was  accepted  by  the  audience 
with  enthusiasm. 

It  was  not  my  intention  to  create  anything  extravagant 
in  equipment  or  scenery,  nor  to  disfigure  the  opera  by  new 
ideas.  I  was  satisfied  to  offer  the  best  artistic  renderings, 
in  conjunction  with  excellent  artists.  We  desired  to  sing 
and  represent  what  belonged  to  our  r61es,  not  to  hide  our 
ability  under  a  bushel,  and  to  be  self -creating  individualities 
rather  than  modern  fawning  hypocrites  or  puppets,  and  as 
such  to  pay  homage  and  honour  to  Mozart.  I  wanted  to 
bring  what  was  beloved  and  sanctioned  by  custom  to  the 
audience,  not  the  unfamiliar  and  the  incomprehensible.  If 
Don  Juan  had  been  given  in  the  same  setting  for  over  a 
century,  and  if  he  had  held  his  position  for  a  hundred  years, 
why  put  a  mask  on  him  in  which  no  one,  not  even  he  himself, 
perhaps,  would  be  able  to  recognise  him? 

Whether  a  hat  is  too  large,  a  chair  not  in  style,  a  flash  of 
lightning  too  strong,  or  a  thunderclap  too  weak,  are  not  the 
principal  points  about  Don  Juan,  that,  as  some  one  very 
correctly  observed  to  me,  does  not  tolerate  any  characteristic 
milieu.  Mozart,  the  composer,  was  and  is  everything  here, 
and  will  always  remain  the  whole.  The  free  co-operation 
of  so  many  fine  artists  who  competed  in  self-sacrifice,  held 
by  no  other  coercion  than  the  friendly  word  of  a  credible 
colleague,  elicited  from  me  the  acknowledgment  of  having 
enjoyed  a  great  and  rare  happiness  for  which  it  was  im- 
possible to  thank  them  enough.  The  enthusiasm  of  the 
artists  for  Mozart  went  hand  in  hand  with  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  audience,  and  that  is  surely  the  most  beautiful  thing 
that  can  be  said  of  a  Don  Juan  performance. 

Figaro  followed  as  the  second  opera  which  was  enthusias- 
tically applauded  with  no  less  justification,  and  it  embraced 
an  ensemble  such  as  few  opera-houses  can  call  their 

own: 
30 


466 


My  Path  Through  Life 


Count 


Almaviva — Weide- 


mann. 


Figaro — Richard  Mayr. 
Bartolo — Haydter. 
B  asilio — B  reuer . 
Antonio — Felix. 
Richter — Preuss. 


Countess      Almaviva — Hilger- 
mann. 

Susanne — Gutheil-Schoder. 
Page — Kiurina . 
Marzelline — Petru. 
Barbel — Michalek. 


It  will  interest  the  reader  to  learn  that  Mahler  had 
written  into  the  second  act  an  entire  court  scene  after 
Beaumarchais's  Les  Noces  de  Figaro,  which  was,  of  course, 
very  cleverly  done,  and  it  was  not  omitted  at  the  Mozart 
Festival,  although,  in  my  judgment,  it  did  not  belong  in  it. 

These  two  performances  were  given  twice  in  four  days, 
one  after  the  other.  Mahler,  who  had  been  present  at  the 
first  performance  of  Don  Juan,  passed  such  an  unfavourable 
judgment  upon  it  at  the  theatre  itself,  although  many  of 
his  own  people  co-operated  in  it,  that  all  those  who  had  been 
astonished  at  the  splendid  way  the  performance  has  passed 
off,  no  longer  had  confidence  to  express  publicly  their  pre- 
viously formed  and  honest  opinion.  This  was  the  only  time 
that  I  ever  experienced  from  Mahler  what  was  unfriendly 
and,  above  all,  highly  unjust.  However,  I  did  not  make  him 
suffer  for  it,  as  I  knew  his  eccentric  ways  towards  others. 
And  yet  he  had  said  to  me  himself  how  much  Roller  and  he 
had  "blundered"  in  the  new  production  of  Don  Juan  at 
Vienna,  which,  of  course,  might  happen  to  any  one.  An  art 
critic,  who  was  entirely  unknown  to  me,  took  up  publicly, 
however,  the  righteous  cause,  and  criticised  most  severely 
the  extraordinary  nature  of  the  opposition. 

An  artists'  concert,  given  as  a  matinee,  took  place  again 
at  the  theatre,  in  1908,  for  the  Mozart  Fund,  and  the  follow- 
ing day,  on  August  i8th,  in  honour  of  the  birthday  of  His 
Majesty,  Emperor  Franz  Josef,  the  Coronation  Mass  was 
given  at  the  Cathedral,  when  the  Vicar-General  was  again  the 
celebrant.  Though  Demut,  of  Vienna,  with  my  consent,  had 
enrolled  me  in  the  service  of  the  good  cause  at  the  artists'  con- 


Salzburg  467 

cert,  yet  it  was  desired  that  I  should  include  something  be- 
side the  soprano  solo  in  the  Mass.  As  I  could  not  think  of 
anything  entirely  suitable,  I  requested  Josef  Reiter  (Hum- 
mel's  successor  as  the  director  of  the  Mozarteum)  to  find 
something  for  me  from  the  immense  quantity  of  Mozart 
church  music. 

The  consignment  contained  various  motets,  amongst 
which  was  the  equally  charming  and  difficult  Alleluia,  that 
fitted  wonderfully  into  the  frame  of  the  Coronation  Mass  and 
the  birthday  celebration.  We  were  extremely  surprised  to 
find,  as  the  concluding  portion  of  the  Alleluia,  the  melody 
of  Haydn's  English  National  Hymn,  which  Haydn  is  said  to 
have  composed  forty  years  after  Mozart.  Since  then,  Hugo 
Bock  of  Berlin  has  published  it  with  piano  accompaniment 
by  Fritz  Lindemann,  that  caused  100  marks  to  flow  into  the 
Mozart  treasury,  a  result  of  which  poor  Mozart  himself  cer- 
tainly never  would  have  dreamt.  I  must  credit  myself  with 
making  it  known,  and  I  am  especially  grateful  to  Mozart  for 
the  dear  piece  that  I  always  sing  to  him  alone,  no  matter  how 
many  people  may  be  sitting  and  listening  to  it  in  the  concert 
hall. 

Now  I  wish  to  ask  the  reader  to  follow  me  again,  for  a 
short  time,  to  the  beautiful  imperial  city  on  the  blue  Danube, 
where  I  filled  a  star  engagement  under  Mahler  in  May, 
without  any  premonition  that  it  was  for  the  last  time. 
Several  months  previously,  I  had  received  word  from  the 
Austro-Hungarian  embassy  that  His  Majesty,  Emperor 
Franz  Josef,  had  conferred  upon  me  the  distinction  of  the 
gold  Cross  of  Merit.  I  was  simply  speechless,  for  the  thought 
of  such  an  honour  had  never  come  to  me  even  in  dreams;  all 
the  less  because  His  Majesty,  the  Emperor,  had  already,  a 
few  years  before,  appointed  me  to  the  position  of  "Imperial 
and  Royal  Private  Singer  to  the  King."  To  give  expres- 
sion to  my  delight  of  the  moment,  I  telegraphed  my  most 
profound  thanks  to  His  Majesty,  and  could  count  upon 


468  My  Path  Through  Life 

presenting  myself  before  him  in  person  in  May  and  thanking 
him,  which  I  had  long  wished  to  do. 

I  requested  the  ever-ready-to-help  and  amiable  Prince 
Montenuovo,  Grand  Steward  of  the  court,  to  announce  me 
for  an  audience  with  the  Emperor  on  May  I3th.  Fidelia  was 
set  for  that  evening,  and  I  again  had  one  of  my  best  attacks 
of  catarrh  of  the  trachea.  But  I  was  commanded  for  a 
quarter  to  one  o'clock,  and,  punctual  as  always,  I  appeared 
as  early  as  half  after  twelve  in  the  great  hall  of  the  Hofburg, 
where  I  found  many  high  Greek-Catholic  ecclesiastics, 
numerous  Magyar  officers,  and  other  dignitaries.  There 
would  be  a  good  long  wait,  if  all  of  them  were  to  precede  me. 
But  I  hoped  that  consideration  would  be  shown  to  ladies, 
and  as,  besides  myself,  there  was  only  one  ancient  canoness 
present,  I  took  courage  again.  The  Gentleman  of  the  Cham- 
ber on  duty  had  immediately  registered  me. 

It  was  after  half-past  two  when  Dr.  Karl  Lueger  also 
appeared,  the  only  one  awaiting  an  audience  whom  I  knew. 
He  was  then  already  a  candidate  for  death,  but  nothing 
affected  his  good  humour.  We  had  known  each  other  for  a 
long  time  and  exchanged  visits,  besides  writing  often,  as  he 
was  in  favour  of  protection  for  animals.  So  I  went  up  to 
him,  congratulated  him  on  his  last  jubilee,  and  remarked 
that  I  had  been  there  already  a  good  while  and  had  to  sing 
Fidelia  that  night.  "Yes,"  said  Dr.  Lueger,  "we  are  not  of 
as  high  rank  as  these  other  persons;  look  there,  dear  lady, 
at  those  individuals  with  the  red  trousers,  they  will  go  ahead 
of  us  all, "  and  he  pointed  to  the  Magyar  officers.  "Well, "  I 
replied,  "if  I  had  known  that,  I,  also,  should  have  put  on  red 
trousers."  He  encouraged  me,  however,  to  state  my  situa- 
tion concerning  Fidelia  to  the  Gentleman  of  the  Chamber, 
and  the  latter  was  able  to  arrange  it  so  that  my  turn  came 
much  sooner  than  originally  was  to  be  expected.  Suddenly 
I  stood  before  the  awe-inspiring  Emperor  of  Austria,  Franz 
Josef!  When  I  felt  myself  so  confused,  I  thought  involun- 
tarily of  an  artist  of  whom  is  related  what  happened  to  her 


Salzburg  469 

at  her  first  audience,  when  the  Emperor  addressed  her. 
"Jesus,  Maria,  and  Josef,"  she  is  said  to  have  replied,  "I  have 
forgotten  everything  that  I  wished  to  say!"  I  did  not  do 
much  better,  but  I  gazed  at  him,  the  dear  Emperor  Franz 
Josef,  who  had  not  permitted  me  to  kiss  his  hand.  I  saw 
his  tall,  slight  figure,  his  beautiful  sky-blue  eyes,  and  I  heard 
his  dear  voice  speaking  so  charmingly  with  a  fine  Viennese 
accent  that  my  heart  swelled,  while,  at  the  same  time,  his 
personality  captivated  me.  He  had  the  goodness  to  attri- 
bute the  success  at  Salzburg  to  me  alone,  for  which  he 
thanked  me  and  would  not  believe  me  when  I  assured  him 
that  all  of  our  artists  would  have  done  just  the  same  for 
Salzburg  and  Mozart  as  I  had.  The  Emperor  was  standing 
at  a  high  writing-desk  when  I  entered,  and  was  making  notes 
of  something.  His  unceasing  industry  has  become  pro- 
verbial. Unfortunately,  the  audience  was  over  more  quickly 
than  one  can  imagine,  as  I  should  have  liked  to  have  heard 
him  speak  for  a  long  time. 

On  the  way  back  I  had  a  fearful  coughing  attack,  and, 
when  I  reached  the  hotel,  I  was  so  hoarse  if  I  talked  that  I 
had  Mahler  called  downstairs,  who  was  living  at  the  hotel 
because  of  his  sick  child,  to  tell  him  that  he  must  ask  one  of 
the  ladies  who  sang  Fidelia  to  hold  herself  in  readiness  for 
the  evening.  Fraulein  von  Mildenburg  was  so  amiable  as 
to  wait  my  pleasure  in  the  opera-house  during  the  first  act. 
Thanks  to  my  careful  breathing,  I  was  not  overtaken  by  the 
least  desire  to  cough,  and  Fraulein  von  Mildenburg  was 
relieved  of  her  service  of  rescue.  Most  unexpectedly,  the 
opportunity  to  repay  her  with  interest  for  her  true  service 
of  love  to  a  colleague  was  soon  afforded  me. 

I  was  on  the  point  of  departing  one  evening  after  my 
engagement  when  I  was  held  back,  as  though  by  a  higher 
power,  for  another  day,  so  as  to  enjoy  Tristan  in  all  peaceful- 
ness  at  night  with  Mildenburg  and  Mahler  and  Roller's 
scenic  decorations.  I  had  talked  with  people  all  day  long, 
and  was  so  exhausted  at  night  that  I  could  neither  see  nor 


470  My  Path  Through  Life 

hear,  and  only  by  exerting  all  my  powers  did  I  drag  myself 
to  the  opera,  where  Mahler's  box  was  at  my  service,  in  which 
I  found  his  wife  and  sister.  Both  ladies  hurried  in  quest  of 
Mahler  after  the  second  act,  and  asked  me  to  go  with  them. 
But  being  completely  used  up,  and  fearing,  moreover,  to  bother 
Mahler  after  his  tremendous  labour  and  before  what  was 
yet  to  come,  I  urged  the  ladies  to  leave  me  to  my  fate  alone 
in  the  box.  All  my  entreaties  seemed  in  vain ;  they  would  not 
rest  until  I  had  joined  them,  and  we  sat  together  in  a  large 
room  with  Mahler,  who  was  taking  some  tea  and  talking 
animatedly,  and  with  at  least  thirty  other  persons. 

I  listened  quietly,  only  wondering  how  it  was  possible 
for  him,  in  such  confused  chatter,  to  keep  his  head  clear  for 
his  most  difficult  task,  when  suddenly  the  superintendent 
rushed  into  the  gathering  with  the  announcement  that  Herr 
Schmedes  (Tristan)  had  become  hoarse  and  would  not  sing 
any  more.  Then  I  admired  Mahler's  composure  as  he  sent 
for  the  score  so  as  to  cut  out  all  that  it  was  possible  to  omit, 
and  notified  Schmedes  that  he  must  go  on  to  the  end  of  the 
opera.  The  dispute  continued  for  a  long  time  back  and  forth, 
and  it  was  far  from  settled  when  the  superintendent  appeared 
a  second  time  with  the  ominous  tidings  that  Fraulein  von 
Mildenburg,  likewise,  was  hoarse  and  did  not  wish  to  sing 
any  more.  That  produced  the  effect  of  throwing  a  burning 
torch  into  a  keg  of  gunpowder,  for  Mahler  exploded  from  his 
calm  like  a  jumping  devil  out  of  a  box,  hopped  about  the 
room  as  though  possessed,  and  could  not  stop  from  rage  and 
excitement.  Over  an  hour  had  elapsed  meanwhile,  and, 
after  Schmedes  had  declared  that  he  would  go  on  singing, 
Mahler  shouted:  "Mildenburg  shall  not  sing  at  all,  she  shall 
shut  up;  I  will  cut  out  the  Lament,  and  the  Liebestod  the 
orchestra  shall  play  alone!" — whereupon  the  whole  crowd 
betook  themselves  to  the  stage  so  as  to  arrange  for  the 
orchestra  the  cuts  that  had  been  selected. 

Frau  Mahler  and  I  were  left  behind  alone  in  the  tea  room ; 
I  silently  shook  my  head,  for  anything  like  this  I  had  never 


Salzburg  471 

yet  experienced.  As  we,  also,  were  on  the  point  of  going 
below,  I  said  to  Alma,  whom  I  had  known  for  some  time  as 
the  youngest  of  Schindler's  daughters  and  the  step-daughter 
of  Carl  Moll:  "  If  I  had  suspected  that  this  would  have  caused 
such  commotion  I  would  have  sung  Isolde's  few  measures." 
"Oh,  Lilli,  would  you  really  do  it ? "  "  Yes,  if  you  think  that 
it  would  be  a  favour  to  Mahler."  Away  she  went  and 
brought  Mahler  back  beaming,  who  asked  me  if  I  would 
really  sing?  "You  may  fetch  me  out  of  my  grave  if  you 
ever  need  me,  -Lilli ;  and  I  will  conduct  anything  where  and 
what  you  like."  Now  I  hurried  down  with  the  utmost 
speed  on  to  the  stage  which  I  had  to  look  at  first — to  climb 
up  it  meant,  in  itself,  quite  an  artistic  performance.  It  was 
arranged  as  though  the  success  of  Tristan  depended  on  the 
humps  in  the  stage  flooring!  There  was  not  the  least  con- 
sideration for  the  singers,  who  could  not  find  a  level  spot  for 
the  foot  while  filling  the  most  difficult  roles  that  exist.  Yes, 
indeed,  the  gentlemen  who  paint  should  be  compelled  to 
sing  great  parts  amidst  their  own  scenery,  and  then  they 
would  give  up  their  fussiness. 

First,  I  had  a  few  words  with  Schmedes  about  the  situa- 
tions; then  I  went  to  the  dressing-room,  where  I  was  un- 
dressed and  dressed,  Fraulein  von  Mildenburg  putting  the 
wig  on  me,  and  I  went  next  to  the  rehearsal  room  with 
the  rehearsal  conductor,  as  I  had  not  sung  the  role,  with  the 
exception  of  the  "Liebestod, "  for  the  past  four  years.  Be- 
cause of  the  immense  cuts  that  had  been  made  for  Schmedes 
it  was  not  long  before  my  turn  came,  and  my  task,  also,  was 
performed  so  quickly  that,  when  it  was  over,  I  did  not  know 
whether  it  had  been  a  dream  or  a  reality.  Although  I  had 
not  been  announced,  and,  to  my  own  eyes,  I  had  been  made 
almost  unrecognisable  by  my  hair  falling  over  my  face,  the 
loyal  Viennese  knew  me  and  rewarded  me  for  my  complai- 
sance to  the  splendid  artist,  Mildenburg  (and  to  Mahler 
also),  with  salvos  of  applause,  perhaps  their  only  outburst  of 
it,  that  affected  me  all  the  more  as  I  had  no  idea  I  had  been 


472  My  Path  Through  Life 

recognised.  Mahler  was  happy,  Fraulein  von  Mildenburg 
comforted,  because  she  was  not  forced  to  disturb  things,  and 
I  was  overjoyed  because  I  had  been  able  to  do  the  deed. 

It  was  remarkable  that  a  dear  friend,  a  Wagnerist  par 
excellence,  had  left  after  the  second  act  because  he  perceived 
the  indisposition  of  the  two  singers.  Something,  however, 
drew  him  back  again  to  hear  the  finale,  and  he  arrived  just 
at  the  moment  of  my  entrance.  He  was  uncertain  at  the 
first  tone,  recognising  my  voice,  but  not  being  able  to  explain 
to  himself  how  that  could  be  squared  with  the  facts,  as  he 
thought  I  was  on  my  way  to  Berlin.  There  were  other  ac- 
acquaintances  passing  through  Vienna,  who  were  present  at 
the  performance,  and  they  knew  me  at  the  very  first  tone. 
So  I  reached  the  Liebesklage  (Love's  Lament)  and  Isolde's 
Liebestod  (Love's  Death)  without  knowing  how,  but  I 
could  not  say  that  I  found  it  a  disagreeable  experience. 

Though  the  year  1909  had  to  elapse  without  adding  to  the 
Mozart  Fund,  there  was  enough  of  preparatory  work  for 
1910,  as  the  Festival,  in  its  artistic  aspect,  had  been  finally 
delivered  over  to  me.  We  were  agreed  upon  giving  three 
Don  Juan  and  three  Zauberflote  performances,  and,  in  addi- 
tion, five  concerts  in  the  inspiring  hall  (Aula)  with  orchestra 
and  soloists,  and  a  church  concert.  Dr.  Muck  had  promised 
me  to  take  Don  Juan  and  one  concert ;  Schuch,  to  direct  the 
Zauberflote,  which  he  had  chosen  himself  as  his  favourite 
opera ;  Mottl,  who  was  not  at  liberty,  pledged  himself  to  lead 
one  of  the  concerts,  if  ultimately  possible,  and  Weingartner 
had  promised  positively  to  conduct  the  last  Symphony  Con- 
cert, the  programme  for  which  he  had  planned  himself.  It 
went  without  saying  that  we  were  assured  of  the  Vienna 
Philharmonic  as  the  orchestra.  These  were  not  only  attrac- 
tive names  but  they  promised  remarkable  productions,  and 
the  more  so  as  I  had  also  already  won  for  it  the  leading  talent 
from  all  the  court  opera-houses. 

I  had  decided  upon  having  everything  as  simple  and 
natural  as  possible,  and  to  avoid  with  all  my  might  fictitious 


Salzburg  473 

decorations  in  view  of  the  smallness  of  the  Salzburg  stage, 
that  had  neither  traps,  additional  rooms,  nor  great  depth, 
and  mindful  of  the  incessant  changes  for  which  the  action  of 
the  Zauberflote  calls. 

I  had  often  consulted  Roller  and  Brioschi  at  Vienna,  to 
whom  the  conditions  of  the  stage  at  Salzburg  were  not  un- 
known, and  had  stated  what  I  had  to  propose  as  being  possible 
and  advantageous,  whereupon  Roller  had  been  so  kind  as  to 
make  the  drawings  and  Brioschi  had  painted  them.  I  had 
to  bear  in  mind  that  the  first  three  stage  alleys  should  be  so 
built  that  they  fitted  into  the  scenes  unchanged  throughout 
the  evening,  while  a  rolling  platform  in  the  rearmost  alley, 
on  which  stood  the  scenery  that  was  again  required,  rendered 
it  possible  to  hang  the  many  back  drops  one  behind  another, 
and  enabled  the  singers  to  move  about,  which  was  the  equi- 
valent of  an  immense  saving  of  time  and  trouble.  Even  an 
architecturally  painted  fire  and  water  test  had  to  suffice,  for 
anything  else  in  those  narrow  spaces  was  out  of  the  question. 
I  had  pictured  to  myself  for  the  Zauberflote  a  beautiful  stage 
frame  of  Egyptian  pylons,  that  would  have  made  a  charming 
setting  for  all  the  scenes.  But,  as  they  could  not  be  placed, 
I  had  to  give  up  the  beautiful  idea,  as  I  did  in  the  case 
of  so  many  other  things  during  the  course  of  the  festival 
year. 

I  talked  over  with  Schuch,  Muck,  and  Weingartner  three 
slight  changes  in  the  sequence  of  the  transformations  as  they 
are  provided  in  old  books,  and  they  considered  them  both 
good  and  advisable.  So  I  could  announce  to  the  committee 
at  Salzburg  in  July,  1909,  the  complete  success  of  my  prepa- 
ratory labours,  whereupon,  in  return,  the  happy  intelligence 
was  communicated  to  me  that  the  town  council  had  not  yet 
resolved  to  have  the  festival.  This  cold  shower  bath  was 
not  the  last  one. 

My  very  soul  depended  on  the  success  of  the  Zauberflote. 
I  had  set  my  heart  upon  embellishing  this  divine  opera  of 
Mozart's  to  the  last  dotlet  on  the  "  i."  It  was  rooted  in  my 


474  My  Path  Through  Life 

memory  in  times  that  lay  so  much  nearer  to  Mozart  than  the 
present, — in  the  complete  theatrical  naivete  of  that  age  in 
which  it  originated  amidst  the  circumstances  and  conditions 
that  then  existed.  But  any  attempt  to  give  it  differently 
or  to  lower  it  to  a  fairy  establishment  would  take  away  not 
merely  its  right  but  its  very  life. 

Whether  Mozart  would  perhaps  have  composed  it  differ- 
ently or  not  if  he  had  had  a  better  book,  he  could  not  have 
made  it  better.  What  Schikaneder  did  for  it  may  and  should 
not  be  discounted.  Such  things  were  permitted  in  those  days, 
and  have  been  preserved  up  to  the  present  in  certain  r61es. 
The  intimacy  of  the  audience  with  the  artist  demanded  and 
allowed  of  things  which,  to-day,  do  not  seem  suitable  any 
longer.  But  one  should  not  believe  that  it  is  not  understand- 
able ;  it  must,  however,  be  done  by  real  artists.  For  that  very 
reason  the  opera  should  be  given  wholly  in  the  spirit  of  that 
time,  with  artists  who  can  do  justice  artistically  to  the 
heartiness  contained  in  it  and  to  the  brightness  of  the  Aus- 
trian temperament.  If  I  am  told  that  that  has  been  outlived 
I  reply,  "Never  in  the  world ! "  The  art  of  cordiality  spread- 
ing down  from  the  stage — indeed  in  every  province  of  art — 
can  never  be  outlived,  but  it  has  been  lost,  and  very,  very 
rarely  is  it  perceptible.  Nothing  in  art  is  sadder  than  this. 
To-day  "men  and  women,"  as  they  say,  are  acted  in  vulgar 
surroundings,  and  there  is  no  thought  remaining  for  warmth 
and  heartiness.  The  artists  no  longer  feel  naturally,  and  if 
they  do  they  often  lack  the  technique,  that  is  to  say,  the 
talent  to  express  it. 

What  a  wealth  of  cheerfulness,  human  nature,  and  joy  of 
life  lies  in  the  characters  of  the  Zauberflote.  Tamino  and 
Pamina  are  fresh  young  people  who  conduct  themselves  with 
Papageno  as  they  would  with  a  big  child.  Pamina  and 
Tamino  fall  on  each  other's  neck  as  soon  as  they  see  each 
other,  and  they  follow  the  natural  impulse  of  their  heart 
before  all  the  world. 

How  charmingly  bright  are  the  three  boys,   who  are 


Salzburg  475 

ubiquitous,  and  who  always  bring  joyousness,  assistance, 
and  release. 

Talkative,  envious,  and  quarrelsome  are  the  three 
amorous  ladies,  actively  engaged  in  trying  to  alienate  the 
two  young  people  from  Sarastro,  and  to  allure  Tamino 
finally  to  themselves.  Everything  must  bubble  over  with 
life  in  the  gestures  and  the  lively  chatter  of  their  arts  of 
persuasion.  And  instead  of  that,  what  is  seen  now  on  most 
stages?  Deadly  tedium,  veiled  black  figures,  motionless 
and  lifeless  like  lamp-posts,  instead  of  the  elemental  German 
cheerful  heartiness.  The  figures  in  the  Zauberflote  are  con- 
ceived in  this  perverted  way  by  very  many  managers  and 
directors. 

And  then  there  is  Papageno,  the  elemental  being,  the 
Viennese  elemental  creature,  richly-endowed  in  mind,  who 
is  so  content  in  his  ignorance  and  natural  state,  who  does  not 
wish  to  be  educated,  wise,  or  anything  but  Papageno,  the 
bird  catcher,  who  lets  his  mouth  say  what  it  will,  and  who 
neither  can  nor  will  do  otherwise.  Anything  makes  him  un- 
happy that  turns  him  aside  from  his  natural  way  of  living. 
What  else  would  he  have?  A  little  wife,  who,  like  himself, 
is  untouched  by  culture,  who  is  full  of  love  for  him,  and  who, 
at  the  most,  is  clothed  with  feathers  like  him. 

Papagena,the  amiable  daughter  of  Eve,  is  a  little  coquette 
in  spite  of  all  her  naturalness.  She  preens  herself  in  her  wed- 
ding finery  like  a  little  bird.  When  the  two  human  children 
have  found  each  other  at  last,  they  entirely  forget  to  embrace 
or  pat  each  other — they  need  neither  arms  nor  hands,  they 
bill  and  coo  like  doves  or  other  birds,  toy  with  their  name, 
with  their  future  children,  until  Papageno  suddenly  takes 
his  little  wife  in  his  arms  in  the  fullest  and  highest  ecstasy 
and  carries  her  away. 

If  all  these  figures  are  not  masterly  in  their  naturalness, 
charm,  heartiness,  pleasure,  and  happiness  I  am  wholly  in 
error.  As  old  as  the  work  is,  every  word  in  it  still  has  interest 
for  any  one  who  knows  and  has  studied  it,  provided  that  he 


476  My  Path  Through  Life 

himself  has  a  heart  and  mind  for  a  masterpiece,  in  which  life, 
love,  intellect,  and  naturalness  hold  sway. 

Even  the  Queen  of  the  Night  can  be  taken  in  a  human 
way,  and,  so  performed,  she  is  not  only  the  ruler  of  super- 
stition and  darksome  night,  "she  is  a  woman,  she  has  a 
woman's  mind."  She  enacts  a  touching  scene  before 
Tamino  in  the  glorious  Adagio  of  her  first  aria.  The  sorrow 
for  her  daughter  may  be  serious  to  her,  but  what  affects  her 
still  more  deeply  is  the  fact  that  Sarastro  has  robbed  her  of  a 
power  which  she  had  hoped  to  inherit  after  her  husband's 
death,  but  which  was  transmissible  only  to  a  man  like  Saras- 
tro. In  order  to  bring  meaning  into  the  action,  that  is,  to 
make  comprehensible  the  reasons  for  her  intrigues,  she  must 
unquestionably  be  allowed  to  utter  the  passages  concerning 
this  in  the  dialogue  and  which  are  usually  omitted.  She 
dissembles  because  she  desires  to  gain  Tamino  for  her 
revenge,  and  he  can  compel  Sarastro.  To  get  him  more  into 
her  toils,  she  changes  her  facial  expression  into  one  of  be- 
witching condescension,  at  the  new  tempo  in  D  major, 
immediately  after  the  end  of  the  Adagio.  She  desires  to 
fascinate  Tamino  more  even  by  her  amiability  than  by  her 
grief.  Her  colorature  is  the  expression  of  womanly  tender- 
ness and  persuasiveness.  Thus  does  she  win  Tamino  for  her 
work,  and  thus  and  only  thus  did  Mozart  conceive  the  first 
aria  of  the  Queen  with  its  colorature. 

But  how  do  most  of  its  impersonators  treat  this  role? 
At  the  change  of  tempo  they  cross  the  stage  to  the  other  side, 
with  their  arms  in  the  air  and  their  train  and  veil,  and  think 
that,  by  so  doing,  they  have  produced  a  dramatic  effect,  for 
which  a  single  condescending  gesture  of  the  hand  and  a 
seductive  smile  would  be  all-sufficient.  The  colorature 
should  be  soft  and  tender,  arid  hence  natural  in  its  rendering. 
In  the  second  aria,  also,  everything  should  be  done  with  an 
expression  of  naturalness.  Pamina,  who  has  just  sunk  down 
before  her  mother  in  entreaty,  throws  herself  on  the  couch 
in  deepest  despair  at  the  words,  ' '  If  Sarastro  does  not  meet 


Salzburg  477 

his  end  through  you."  The  Queen  follows  her,  leans  over 
her,  and  hisses  the  staccato  notes,  like  a  serpent  in  Pamina's 
ears,  as  though  she  would  impress  upon  her  that  there  is  no 
longer  a  choice  and  Pamina  must  kill  Sarastro. 

If  Sarastro,  with  his  wisdom,  manliness,  and  worth  in- 
structs Pamina,  and  acts  towards  her  as  though  he  were  with 
his  own  young  child,  then  everything  has  been  done  that  can 
be  done  with  this  role  which  acts  itself. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  say  anything  further  about  Mono- 
statos;  he  should  be  supple,  amorous,  envious,  odious,  and 
false. 

The  prose  should  be  spoken  naturally  throughout,  in 
consonance  with  what  has  been  said  above  and  with  that 
age.  Heartily,  cheerfully,  and  amiably  by  the  pair  of  lovers, 
with  dignity  by  the  priests,  and  adumbrated  with  delicate 
nuances  where  Papageno  is  concerned.  The  whole  opera 
should  be  given  with  human  amiability,  pleasure,  cheerful- 
ness, and  naturalness,  seasoned  with  fine  humour,  or  inclined 
towards  deep  seriousness  when  it  treats  of  the  sanctuary  of 
love  or  faith. 

And,  above  all,  it  must  be  sung,  sung  as  to-day  so  few  are 
capable  of  doing  it.  This  conception  must  witness  to  my 
best  conscience  as  to  how  I  wished  to  give  the  Zauberflote, 
as  it  stood  fast  in  my  rich  store  of  recollections  of  many 
great  and  eminent  artists. 

And  now  a  word  about  humour !  It  is  the  quality  to-day 
which  is  entirely  thrust  in  the  background  of  all  operas, 
whether  through  the  want  of  understanding  of  most  stage 
managers  for  the  artists,  or  the  unpreparedness  of  artists  for 
art,  or  perhaps,  also,  from  false  conceptions — humour,  the 
most  enlivening  element  of  all  dramatic  representation,  the 
mirror  of  life,  as  Shakespeare  so  incomparably  holds  it  forth 
to  us.  It  is  the  most  indispensable  of  all  the  spices  of  life 
and  drama.  Are  not  Mozart's  Don  Juan,  Figaro,  Zauberflote 
the  Entfuhrung  and  Cosi  fan  tutte  saturated  with  humour  in 
words  and  music  despite  all  their  grandeur?  Is  not  the 


478  My  Path  Through  Life 

relish  gone  from  them  when  the  humour  is  taken  away? 
What  a  healthy  tonic  for  the  audience,  the  artists,  for  art, 
and  humanity!  And  yet  one  has  to  look  on  calmly,  as,  with 
utter  lack  of  intelligence,  so  many  works  are  robbed  of  their 
best  lifeblood,  often  only  in  order  to  make  a  so-called  effective 
ensemble,  which  seeks  and  finds  its  climax  in  only  too  noble 
harmony,  that  is,  almost  to  the  point  of  tedium.  It  seems  to 
me  impossible  to  realise  a  great  idea  with  submissive  material ; 
for  that  purpose,  self-creating  courageous  artists  are  needed, 
who  have  confidence  in  themselves  and  dare  to  express  their 
conception,  their  soul,  and  their  ability.  We  heard  from  the 
great  stage  artist,  Laube,  on  the  occasion  of  his  hundredth 
birthday,  how  he  gave  play  to  the  individuality  of  all  artists, 
and  I  know  it  from  my  own  experience,  as  I  was  engaged  a 
year  under  him.  I  had  also  the  same  precious  experience  with 
Richard  Wagner  in  1876. 

I  had  a  peculiarly  charming  idea  for  the  three  "Little 
Boys ' ' ;  Schuch's  eldest  daughter  should  make  her  debut,  under 
her  father's  leadership,  as  the  First  Boy ;  the  Second  Boy  should 
be  Alvary's  little  daughter,  and  the  Third  Boy  still  another 
artist  child.  Their  debut  would  have  been  an  ineffaceable 
memory  for  the  young  children  during  their  whole  lifetime. 
But  the  pretty  idea  came  to  nought,  and  nothing  was  left 
of  it  but  Kate  von  Schuch's  debut  without  her  father. 

The  death  of  our  dear  Anton  Moser  of  Vienna,  illness, 
refusal  of  leave-of-absence,  and  countless  other  human 
weaknesses  embarrassed  the  completed  plans  until  shortly 
before  the  productions.  The  worst  blow  of  all  was  the  with- 
drawal of  Schuch  on  July  6th.  I  had  been  warned  in  advance ; 
however,  I  trusted  the  word  of  the  unreliable  man  and  was 
forsaken.  It  must  be  remembered  that  we  were  already  in  the 
middle  of  the  theatrical  vacation  season,  and  that  no  artists 
could  be  found  after  they  had  scattered  through  the  world. 
Telegrams  and  letters  were  often  from  two  to  three  weeks  on 
their  way  undelivered. 

I  telegraphed  to  Muck  that  he  must  take  the  Zauberflote, 


Salzburg  479 

but  my  message  did  not  reach  him.  I  begged  Weingartner 
to  direct  it,  in  addition  to  the  concert;  he  declined  to  take 
even  the  concert.  At  last,  I  had  to  accept  gratefully  Schuch's 
proposal  to  let  Franz  Mikorey  of  Dessau  conduct  in  his  place, 
although  I  did  not  know  whether  the  Philharmonic  orchestra 
would  agree  to  the  selection.  Two  days  before  the  first 
Zauberftote,  Slezak,  also,  wired  me  of  his  withdrawal,  whom  I 
recaptured  by  a  very  rude  telegram  so  that  now,  at  last,  all 
was  in  order  and  remained  so. 

Die  Zauberflote. 

Sarastro  Richard  Mayr,  Vienna. 

Queen  of  the  Night      Frieda  Hempel,  Berlin. 

Pamina  Johanna  Gadski-Tauscher,  New  York. 

First   Lady  Lilli  Lehmann,  Berlin. 

Second  "  Melanie  Kurt,  Berlin. 

Third    "  Hermine  Kittel,  Vienna. 

Tamino  Leo  Slezak,  Vienna. 

Papagena  Gertrude  Forstel,  Vienna. 

Papageno  Karl  Gross,  Cassel. 

The  Speaker  Alexander  Haydter,  Vienna. 

Monostatos  Julius  Liebau,  Berlin. 

A  Priest  Gerhard  Stehmann,  Vienna. 

First   Boy  Kate  von  Schuch,  Vienna. 

Second  "  Heta  Heber,  Berlin. 

Third     "  Olga  Tremelli,  Berlin. 

Conductor,  Franz  Mikorey,  Dessau. 

Don  Giovanni 

Don  Giovanni  Antonio  Scotti,  New  York. 

The  Commander  Gerhard  Stehmann,  Vienna. 

Don  Ottavio  Georg  Maikl,  Vienna. 

Leporello  Andrea  de  Segurola,  New  York. 

Masetto  Willy  Paul,  Hanover. 

Donna  Anna  Lilli  Lehmann,  Berlin. 

Donna  Elvira  Johanna  Gadski-Tauscher,  New  York. 

Zerlina  Geraldine  Farrar,  New  York. 
Conductor,  Dr.  Karl  Muck,  Berlin. 


480  My  Path  Through  Life 

As  we  gave  the  first  act  of  Don  Giovanni  in  two  scenes,  in 
order  to  avoid  too  many  unnecessary  changes,  I  had  the 
curtain  lowered  after  the  "Rache"  aria  and  raised  again 
after  three  minutes.  In  the  meantime,  twilight  has  fallen 
upon  the  same  scene.  Ottavio  enters  with  his  servant,  hands 
a  letter  to  him  that  the  latter  takes,  at  his  command,  to 
Elvira  in  the  posada  (inn)  where  she  has  taken  lodgings.  It 
will  be  recalled  that  the  letter  is  an  agreement  to  a  rendezvous 
with  Donna  Anna  and  Ottavio.  The  latter  remains  standing 
in  the  street,  and  reflects  (recitative  before  the  G  major  aria) 
that  he  can  scarcely  believe  Donna  Anna's  words,  designating 
Don  Giovanni  as  the  murderer  of  her  father,  which  is  followed 
by  his  aria.  Thereupon  the  servant  returns  from  the  posada, 
bringing  word  to  Ottavio  that  Elvira  will  be  ready  at  the 
appointed  hour,  and  both  go  off.  The  "Champagne"  aria 
follows,  etc.  Before  the  "Mask"  trio,  Ottavio  and  Anna 
appear  behind  the  posada,  and  Elvira  opens  the  door,  greet- 
ing them  both  with  the  words,  "Take  my  hand  in  the  com- 
pact," etc. 

I  had  the  second  act  (after  the  sextet)  as  far  as  the  church- 
yard, also  played  in  one  scene.  To  make  this  possible  I  had 
arranged  a  garden  in  the  front  of  the  cemetery,  as  well  and  as 
ill  as  it  could  be  executed  with  ancient  set  pieces  that  had 
been  in  pawn  and  stored  away,  to  the  right  of  the  spectator, 
opposite  Elvira's  balcony,  which  represented  the  rear  facade 
of  the  posada,  and  it  was  surrounded  by  an  open  fencing 
that  was  high  and  low  in  parts  and  which  had  a  stone 
gateway  overgrown  with  moss  and  bushes.  An  old  wall, 
with  recesses  that  concealed  the  persons  acting  in  the 
garden  to  the  front  from  any  one  towards  the  interior,  led 
from  the  gate  to  the  rear  centre  stage.  These  alcoves, 
containing  illuminated  sacred  images,  afforded  a  hiding- 
place  for  Don  Giovanni  during  the  trio.  As  soon  as  Elvira 
and  Leporello,  frightened  by  Don  Giovanni,  attempted  to 
flee,  they  slipped  away,  with  loud  outcries,  through  the  open 
gate  in  the  fence  of  the  front  garden,  and  disappeared,  while 


Salzburg  481 

Don  Giovanni,  laughing  the  while,  bolted  the  gate  from  the 
outside. 

After  the  serenade,  his  aria  and  Zerline's,  Leporello  and 
Elvira  ventured  into  the  front  garden  again,  where  Elvira 
sank  upon  a  rock  under  a  willow  to  wait  for  Leporello.  The 
latter  sought  for  an  exit  by  round-about  ways,  and  had  just 
reached  the  gateway,  that  he  vainly  tried  to  open,  when 
Ottavio's  servant,  with  flowers  and  a  light,  appeared  on  the 
stage,  to  open  the  gateway  for  his  master,  who  followed  him 
closely  on  a  visit  to  Comtur's  grave.  Leporello  bounded 
back,  and,  listening,  awaited  a  favourable  moment  for  his 
flight.  Meanwhile,  both  Anna  and  Ottavio  sang  their 
phrases,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  the  servant  went  up  to 
Anna  to  present  her  with  the  flowers.  This  moment  was 
made  use  of  by  Leporello  to  slip  slowly  through  the  gateway 
and  along  the  wall  outside,  where  he  ran  into  the  arms  of 
Zerline  and  Masetto  and  the  sextet  developed. 

This  arrangement  seemed  to  me  a  happy  solution  for  the 
sextet  which  is  otherwise  wrested  out  of  the  setting,  al- 
though it  stands  in  the  closest  connection  with  what  has 
preceded  it.  If  there  is  a  change  of  scene  between  what  has 
just  occurred  and  the  sextet,  a  close  relation  of  the  two  scenes 
can  never  be  apparent  to  the  understanding  of  the  audience, 
nor  even  to  the  artists  and  those  who  know  the  opera.  As 
stated  in  the  directions,  the  sextet  should  take  place  in  the 
fore-court  of  the  Comtur  palace,  like  the  first  scene  of  the 
opera,  whither  Elvira  and  Leporello  have  wandered  by  chance 
on  their  flight  through  the  streets.  On  their  return  home 
Anna  and  Ottavio  then  find  Don  Giovanni,  and  are  terrified 
because  they  fear  a  new  attack. 

So  it  is  intended,  but  no  one  will  or  can  think  this  natural 
who  does  not  know  exactly  what  it  depends  upon.  Any  one 
will  consider  it  either  stupid  or  impossible  that  the  two  should 
run  deliberately  to  Anna's  house.  One  must  see  where  they 
have  strayed  in  their  flight,  and  Anna  can  be  just  as  terrified 
if  she  meets  Don  Giovanni  before  the  cemetery,  as  she  often 


482  My  Path  Through  Life 

goes  alone  about  this  time  to  visit  her  father's  grave.  When 
the  scene  is  set  very  closely,  as  in  Salzburg,  for  instance,  this 
connection  makes  a  beautiful  impression  of :  unity,  so  that 
even  those  best  acquainted  with  Don  Giovanni  felt  that  it  was 
a  good  deed  to  link  up  the  sextet  in  this  way,  and  a  gain  in 
what  was  proper  and  effective. 

It  is  positively  distressing  to  have  the  so-called  "Brief" 
aria  of  Donna  Anna  rendered  in  the  chapel  of  the  cemetery  or 
of  a  house  or  even  in  the  cemetery  itself,  as  I  have  known  it  to 
be  done  at  various  places;  distressing,  because,  in  this  way, 
the  only  moment  that  can  reconcile  us  to  Ottavio's  fate  is 
reduced  to  nothing.  Therefore  it  is  false.  The  recitative 
preceding  Anna's  aria,  in  which  Ottavio  presses,  with  impetu- 
ous words,  for  a  speedy  union  with  her,  is  fitted  neither  to  a 
cemetery  nor  a  chapel,  and  this  also  applies  to  Donna  Anna's 
answer.  Although  she  still  constantly  mourns  for  her  beloved 
father,  she  yet  shows  only  a  weak  resistance,  expressed  in 
tender  words,  to  her  own  feeling  that  she,  on  her  side,  has  for 
her  lover  and  future  husband. 

I,  for  my  part,  have  always  tried  to  put  as  much  love  and 
reverence  as  was  possible  into  this  situation,  so  as  to  make 
up  in  some  degree  to  Ottavio,  in  the  eyes  of  the  audience,  for 
his  poorly  drawn  character.  Donna  Anna  overcomes  her 
lover's  resentment  of  her  long  delay  with  her  glorious  recita- 
tive. She  assures  him  in  the  Rondo  that  she  loves  him 
"beyond  everything."  And  if  the  Allegro  diffuses  a  little 
happiness  about  the  two  betrothed  lovers,  who  are  in  each 
other's  embrace,  a  mood  that  Donna  Anna  may  heighten  by 
a  kiss  at  the  close  of  the  aria,  it  will  make  a  very  satisfactory 
impression  on  the  audience,  that  is  a  very  important  thing, 
and  which  can  be  created  only  by  the  loving  intimacy  of  the 
couple  in  the  suitable  place.  For  this  reason,  the  scene  must 
be  played,  under  all  circumstances,  in  a  room  in  Donna 
Anna's  house. 

This  aria,  received  the  name  of  the  "Brief,"  aria,  because, 
for  a  long  time,  Don  Ottavio  and  with  him  the  whole  previous 


Salzburg  483 

dialogue,  i.  e.,  the  recitative,  was  left  out.  A  letter 
from  Ottavio  to  Anna,  which  contained  reproaches  be- 
cause of  the  cruelty  of  her  behaviour,  had  to  supply 
what  she  has  to  respond  to  in  the  aria.  Probably  it  is 
not  noticed  how  important  this  scene  is  for  Ottavio  as 
well  as  for  Donna  Anna,  as  it  finally  brings  the  relations  of 
the  two  characters,  dubious  until  then,  to  a  satisfactory 
conclusion. 

The  final  result,  also,  of  this  artistic  union  to  the  honour 
of  Mozart  was  extremely  satisfactory  as  many  of  the  audi- 
ence with  a  taste  for  art  expressed  the  wish  that  they  could 
be  present  when  the  two  performances,  which  they  had  just 
heard  in  six  days,  were  repeated  in  a  fortnight.  If  theatre 
directors  had  aimed  at  such  success  they  would  certainly 
have  got  more  fame  from  it  than  we  did  in  Salzburg,  for  we 
were  quietly  content  with  the  sense  of  having  given  our  best. 
Though  space  is  denied  me  to  do  justice  to  each  single  per- 
formance yet  duty  obliges  me  to  think  of  one,  in  especial, 
that  gave  us  a  distinct  surprise. 

In  the  search  for  a  good  Italian  Leporello,  Antonio  Scotti 
came  to  my  aid,  who  strongly  recommended  to  me  his 
colleague,  Andrea  de  Segurola,  a  Spaniard,  and  a  Marquis 
by  birth.  He  had  no  cause  to  regret  his  recommendation, 
nor  I  my  quick  action  upon  it,  for  this  young  and  very  elegant 
man  proved  to  be  a  character  interpreter  of  the  very  first 
rank.  He  succeeded  in  representing  Leporello  as  a  serious 
creature,  worked  out  the  proud  Spaniard  in  him  in  the  finest 
detail,  and  did  not  forget  what  distinguished  the  "Spanish" 
servant  of  Don  Giovanni;  but,  of  course,  not  according  to 
ancient  tradition,  for  everything  that  reminded  one  of  the 
buffoon  in  this  r61e  at  our  German  and  Italian  opera-houses 
was  here  stripped  away  from  it.  Dull  of  thought  and  of 
action,  this  Leporello  vegetated  under  the  pressure  of  a 
demoniacal  power  that  kept  him  in  the  bounds  of  his  office, 
which  he  vainly  resisted  because  his  spiritual  force  was  not 
sufficient  for  him  to  escape,  and  under  which  Don  Giovanni 


484  My  Path  Through  Life 

always  forced  him  down  again  so  as  to  keep  him  a  pliant 
slave  of  his  demon. 

I  would  have  liked  to  have  had  cinematographic  repro- 
ductions of  each  single  gesture,  so  as  to  preserve  what  was 
there  portrayed  in  fine  observation  of  human  character. 
Although  it  may  have  repelled  many  spectators  at  first,  yet 
the  whole  audience  was  soon  converted  to  the  eminent 
conception,  the  effect  of  which  was  tremendous,  and  I  never 
wish  to  see  a  different  Leporello.  To  me  it  was  an  illumina- 
tion. The  dulness  of  this  man,  who  is  compelled  against  his 
will  to  participate  in  so  many  vulgar  pranks,  was  evident, 
also,  in  the  very  unusual  make-up  (after  Velasquez). 

He  was  represented  as  a  red-haired  man,  respectable,  a 
citizen,  clad  all  in  brown,  who  has  a  wart  bordered  with  red 
hair  under  his  lip  on  the  right  side,  which,  looking  like  a 
Henri  Quatre  beard,  seemed  to  bristle  and  slip  to  one  side. 
Every  scene  was  a  masterpiece  of  the  finest  art  of  acting. 
When  this  Leporello  was  compelled  by  Don  Giovanni  to 
imitate  his  gestures  under  Elvira's  balcony  it  was  an  un- 
successful attempt  that  was  so  despairing  that  Leporello 
produced  a  comic  but  not  a  farcical  effect.  One  saw  and  felt 
the  defenceless  struggle  of  the  being  without  will  or  power 
against  the  spiritual  force  of  the  master.  The  discomfort 
that  this  poor  man,  who  stands  under  Don  Giovanni's 
dominion,  shows  through  the  whole  opera  is  intensified  by 
single  minor  indications  of  his  desire  for  luxury. 

It  pleases  him  to  be  embraced  by  a  beautiful,  warm- 
blooded woman,  but  the  fear  of  discovery  spoils  for  him  all 
pleasure  in  the  adventure.  He  enjoys  eating  a  little  piece  of 
pheasant  and  drinking  good  wine,  and  he  also  gives  occa- 
sional proofs  of  his  favour  to  the  peasant  girls.  His  ap- 
parent shamelessness  here  is  clumsiness.  If  he  were  really 
insolent  he  would  humiliate  Don  Giovanni,  his  master,  and 
insult  Elvira  most  profoundly,  and  that  may  not  be.  This 
Leporello  freed  me  for  the  first  time  from  the  disagreeable 
feeling  that  I  have  always  been  compelled  to  experience  as  the 


Salzburg  485 

result  of  the  vulgar  conduct  of  all  other  Leporellos  towards 
Elvira.  The  first  scenes  of  the  duel  in  the  cemetery,  and  the 
last  appearance  of  the  statue,  were  splendid.  I  confess  that 
one  could  admire  this  Leporello  every  evening. 

Heinrich  Heine's  delicious  utterance  concerning  Sancho 
Panza,  Don  Quixote's  trusty  servant,  is  applicable  to  de 
Segurola's  Leporello: 

The  general  crowd,  including  the  philosophers,  without  being 
aware  of  it,  is  nothing  more  than  a  colossal  Sancho  Panza  who, 
in  spite  of  his  sober  fear  of  the  bastinado  and  his  humdrum  in- 
telligence, follows  the  mad  knight  in  all  his  dangerous  adventures, 
tempted  by  the  promised  reward,  in  which  he  believes  because  he 
wishes  it,  but  still  more  impelled  by  the  mystic  power  that 
enthusiasm  exerts  on  the  great  mass  of  people.  This  fact  we  can 
perceive  in  all  religious  and  political  revolutions,  and  perhaps 
daily  in  the  most  trivial  occurrences. 

Every  one  who  belonged  to  the  artistic  section  was  again 
united  at  an  assembly  at  the  H6tel  de  TEurope.  Only  the 
Grand  Duke  Eugen,  Mozart's  most  worthy  protector,  knew 
how  to  make  this  festivity,  through  his  especially  fine  artis- 
tic sense  and  happy  grasp  of  human  services  or  weakness,  one 
of  the  brightest  and  most  contented  of  hours,  and  it  cradled 
us  in  a  fresh  sentiment  of  gratitude  for  all  that  this  great- 
souled  man  had  already  done  for  the  grand  cause  of  Mozart. 

The  last  day  of  the  festival  brought  with  it  great  exer- 
tions, but  also  happy  agitation  such  as  one  gladly  endured. 
After  the  early  concert  at  the  Cathedral  when  the  Credo  Mass 
was  given,  into  which  I  wove  the  beloved  Alleluia,  we  has- 
tened to  the  spot  where  the  prospective  "Mozart  School"  is 
to  rise,  the  corner-stone  of  which  it  was  intended  to  lay  that 
day.  The  Grand  Duke  Eugen,  His  Eminence,  Prince- 
Bishop  Katschthaler,  Count  Gandolf  Kuenburg,  our  highly- 
revered  President  and  dear  friend,  who  knew  so  well  how  to 
collect  the  spirits  skilfully  under  one  hat,  the  artists,  the 
committee  and  magistrates,  the  high-born  guests,  all  took  part 


486  My  Path  Through  Life 

in  the  solemn  act  so  long  anticipated  in  the  charming  garden 
adjoining  the  Mirabell  Bastion,  and  that  was  as  distinguished 
in  its  aspect  as  the  illustrious  men  that  it  held.  Only  a  few 
but  very  noble  words  were  spoken  by  the  Grand  Duke 
Protector  and  by  His  Eminence,  who  paid  formal  tribute  to 
Mozart,  as  though  he  would  apologise  to  him  for  the  wrong 
that  had  once  been  committed  against  him  there.  Dr. 
Hirschfeld,  of  Vienna,  made  a  festival  address  of  elevated 
character,  and  each  one  selected  to  do  so  laid  words  of  deep 
sentiment  in  the  ground  with  the  stone,  from  which  great 
things  shall  some  day  grow  for  the  Salzburg  country. 
Blessings  be  with  this  work  that  is  beginning!  May  the 
profoundest  seriousness  and  highest  endeavour  be  dedicated 
to  it !  Let  its  watchword  be,  "  To  will  and  to  do ! " 

The  official  festival  closed  with  the  "Jupiter"  Symphony 
at  the  evening  concert,  when  Frau  von  Leschetizky  played  a 
piano  concerto  and  I  sang  the  aria  "Fiordiligi"  from  Cost  fan 
tutte  and  it  was  wound  up,  in  extreme  jollity,  after  the  concert, 
by  an  artists'  evening  at  the  Kurhaus,  and  the  ground  was 
levelled  for  new  plans  and  fresh  courage.  Everything 
seemed  self-evident,  neither  wrought  up  nor  over-excited, 
and  our  pleasure  and  our  emotion  were  as  natural  as  only 
Mozart  can  make  them. 

I  am  impelled  to  give  here  a  beautiful  passage  by  Gounod 
which  the  Duke  of  Sagan  once  wrote  in  my  album : 

Beethoven  est  le  plus  grand, 
Mozart  est  le  plus  haut — 
Beethoven  a  plus  de  puissance,  et 
Mozart  plus  de  se're'nite' ! 
Mozart  est  dans  le  ciel  et 
Beethoven  y  monte; 
Et  pourtant  ils  sont  e"gaux  ! 

CHARLES  GOUNOD. 


Baby  Kalisch-Lehmann 

From  an  amateur  photograph  taken  in  1901 


Conclusion 

AT  the  close  of  this  volume,  I  must  recall  with  sorrow 
a  man  who  died  much  too  soon  for  us,  and  whom  I 
needed  to  meet  only  once  to  consider  a  dear  friend.  One  day 
as  I  was  standing  in  the  garden  at  Scharfling,  weighted  with 
thoughts  of  protection  for  animals,  I  saw  a  priest  approach- 
ing in  travelling  dress  and  I  saluted  him,  upon  a  sudden  in- 
spiration, and  spoke  to  him 'as  follows,  "Reverend  Sir,  you 
attract  me,  for  you  have  a  sympathetic  countenance;  come 
nearer,  I  beg,  as  I  should  like  to  speak  to  you  about  some- 
thing. "  The  very  dignified  reverend  gentleman,  whose  face 
reminded  me  of  Goethe,  smiled,  approached,  and  introduced 
himself  as  Dr.  Johannes  Baier,  Professor  at  the  First  Royal 
Seminary  at  Wurzburg.  So  the  electric  wire  of  sympathy 
had  again  sounded  loudly  and  truly,  and,  laughing,  we 
already  had  our  mutual  friends,  Professors  Kiepert  and 
Schwendemann  of  my  natal  city,  Wurzburg,  on  the  line. 
The  protection  of  animals  had  long  been  taught  by  Dr. 
Baier  in  his  seminary,  as  well  as  all  that  belonged  to  nature, 
and  that  was  as  much  an  open  book  to  him  as  was  his  own 
soul.  Soon  we  were  sitting  together  at  table,  for  my  husband 
had  just  as  quickly  entered  into  a  bond  of  friendship  with 
him,  which  we  never  desired  to  lose  as  long  as  we  lived. 
Letters  passed  back  and  forth,  books  were  exchanged,  and  we 
were  joyous  when  we  had  our  rare  meetings  at  Scharfling, 
for  Dr.  Baier  was  a  remarkable  man,  and  a  very  learned  one, 
moreover,  who  never  boasted  of  his  knowledge  but  was  glad 

to  add  to  it. 

487 


488  My  Path  Through  Life 

Returning  home  from  a  walk  the  next  summer,  I  found 
our  whole  house  apparently  desolate ;  all  the  doors  were  wide 
open,  and  no  one  was  to  be  seen.  As  I  opened  the  door  to 
my  room,  I  perceived  by  artificial  twilight  a  masculine  figure 
in  a  corner,  dressed  fantastically  in  part.  A  white  skin  was 
thrown  over  his  right  shoulder  and  the  left  was  bare;  reeds, 
shells,  and  ribbons  were  wound  about  his  head  and  arm§;  in 
front  of  him  was  a  small  table  with  a  blue  and  white  cover, 
upon  that  a  cushion  of  the  same,  and  the  figure  waved  in  his 
hand  a  blue  and  white  Bavarian  flag.  It  began  to  recite  a 
poem  and,  at  the  end,  presented  me,  on  the  cushion,  together 
with  a  large  photograph  of  the  house  where  I  was  born,  the 
certificate  of  my  baptism  from  the  church  register. 

The  Bavarian  sea-god  was  my  husband,  who  possesses 
great  talent  for  getting  up  surprises,  and  Dr.  Baier  was  the 
giver  and  the  finder  of  the  picture,  which  he  sent  secretly  so 
as  to  afford  me  pleasure. 

The  corner  house  in  the  Sandgasse  long  ago  went  out  of 
existence,  but  Dr.  Baier  had  taken  an  interest  in  searching 
for  the  owner,  who  had  had  the  lucky  idea  of  photograph- 
ing the  house  before  it  was  torn  down,  and,  in  this  way,  I 
came  into  possession  of  the  picture  of  my  birthplace. 

I  insert  it  in  this  book,  although  it  is  not  interesting  to  any 
one,  because  this  spot  is  consecrated  through  my  mother. 
Although  no  star  shone  to  show  the  way  to  my  cradle  to  any 
Kings  of  the  East,  oxen,  asses,  and  other  four-footed  crea- 
tures must  have  been  present — at  least,  the  love  for  them  has 
passed  over  to  me  through  the  heart-throbs  of  my  mother. 
And  if  I  have  accomplished  nothing  more  than  make  the 
attempt  to  ease  the  lot,  often  so  sad,  of  many  of  these  poor 
things  who  are  not  understood,  as  "Agent  for  the  Animals, " 
as  I  like  to  call  myself,  I  believe,  in  the  spirit  of  our  mother, 
that  I  have  not  lived  in  vain. 

GRUNEWALD,  March,  1913. 


«    2 
—     2 


tfl  CD 

a  s 

fl  o 

at  *- 

&  ~ 


Opera  Repertoire  of  Lilli  Lehmann 


IsMl- 

Composers 

Operas 

Prague 
1866-1868 

Dantzic 
1868-1869 

Leipsic 
1869-1870 

Berlin 
1870-1885 

K7*«f 

M'C  o"S  g-d 

.5  S.2'5-0  3 

Abert,  Josef 

Ekkehard 

— 

— 

— 

Praxedis 

— 

Adam,     Adolphe 

Postilion   von    Lon- 

Charles 

jumeau 

Rosa 

— 

— 

Madeleine 

— 

Auber,  D.  F.  Esprit 

Stumme  von  Portici 

or  La  muette  de 

Portici 

Maid   of 

— 

— 

Elvira 

— 

Honour 

Auber 

Fra  Diavolo 

— 

Zerline 

Zerline 

— 

— 

Auber 

Der  Maskenball 

or  Un  ballo  in 

maschera 

— 

Page 

Page 

— 

— 

Auber 

Der  schwarze 

Domino  or  Le 

domino  noir 

Gertrude 

Angela 

Angela 

— 

— 

Auber 

Maurer  und 

Schlosser  or 

Le  Mason 

Zobeide 

Henri- 

— 

Irma 

— 

ette 

Auber 

Des   Teufels   Anteil 

or  La  part  du  diable 

— 

Carlo 

Carlo 

— 

— 

Broschi 

Broschi 

Auber 

Die  Krondiamanten 

or  Les  diamants  de 

la  couronne 

— 

Theo- 

— 

Theophila 

phila 

489 


490 


My  Path  Through  Life 


Composers 

Operas 

Prague 
1866-1868 

Dantzic 
1868-1869 

Leipsic 
1869-1870 

Berlin 
1870-1885 

"  Visiting  engagements: 
America,  London, 
Vienna,  Berlin, 
Munich,  Bayreuth, 
Dresden,  Stockholm, 
Budapest,  etc. 

Barbieri,    Carlo 

Perdita 

Maid 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Emanuele  di 

Beethoven,  Ludwig 

Fidelio 

— 

— 

Marzelline 

Marzelline 

(Leonore) 

von 

(Leonore) 

Fidelio 

Fidelio 

Bellini,  Vincenzo 

Norma 

Clotilde 

Adalgisa 

— 

Adalgisa 

Norma 

Norma 

Bizet,  Georges 

Carmen 

— 

— 

— 

Carmen 

Carmen 

Boieldieu,  Francois 

Die  weisse  Dame  or 

A. 

La  dame  blanche 

— 

Jenny 

Anna 

Anna 

— 

Boieldieu 

Johann  von  Paris  or 

Jean  de  Paris 

— 

Clara 

— 

Clara 

— 

Brull,  Ignaz 

Das  goldene  Kreuz 

— 

— 

— 

Christine 

— 

Briill  " 

Der  Landfriede 

— 

— 

— 

Brigitte 

Cherubini,      Maria 

Der  Wassertrager  or 

Luigi 

Les  deux  journe"es 

— 

— 

— 

Constanze 

— 

Cherubini 

Medea 

— 

— 

Creusa 

Creusa 

Delibes,  Le"o 

Der  Konig  hat's 

gesagt  or  Le 

roi  1'a  dit 

—  ' 

— 

— 

Flarambel 

— 

Dittersdorff,     Karl 

Doktor  und 

D. 

Apotheker 

— 

Rosalie 

'  —  - 

— 

— 

Donizetti,  Gaetano 

Lucrezia  Borgia 

— 

— 

— 

Lucrezia 

Lucrezia 

Borgia 

Borgia 

Donizetti 

Lucia 

Alice 

— 

— 

Lucia 

— 

Donizetti 

Die  Favoritin  or 

La  Favofita 

Ines 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Donizetti 

Die  Regiments- 

tochter  or  La 

fille  du  regiment 

— 

— 

— 

Marie 

— 

Donizetti 

Belisar  or 

Belisarius 

Eudora 

—     " 

— 

— 

— 

Drechsler,  Josef 

Alpenkonig  und  Men- 

schenfeind 

Salchen 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Drechsler 

Bauer  als  Millionar 

— 

— 

— 

Jugend 

— 

Drechsler 

Der  Diamant  des 

'.•  i*vf 

Geisterkonigs 

FeeApri- 

— 

—  • 

— 

— 

kosa 

Opera  Repertoire  of  Lilli  Lehmann 


491 


Composers 

Operas 

Prague 
1866-1868 

Dantzic 
1068-1869 

Lsipsic 
1860-1870 

Berlin 
1870-1885 

Visiting  engagements: 
America,  London, 
Vienna,  Berlin, 
Munich,  Bayreuth, 
Dresden,  Stockholm, 
Budapest,  etc. 

Eckert,  Carl 

Die  Heimkehr 

— 

— 

— 

Friede 

— 

Flo  tow,     Fr.,  Frei- 

Martha 

— 

Lady 

Lady 

Lady 

— 

herr  von 

Harriet 

Harriet 

Harriet 

Flotow 

Stradella 

— 

— 

Leonore 

Leonore 

Gene'e,  Richard 

Der  schwarze  Prinz 

Pascal 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Gluck,  Christopher 

Armida 

— 

— 

— 

Najade 

W.,  Ritter  von 

Lucinde 

Gluck 

Orpheus  or 

Orphic  et  Euridice 

— 

— 

— 

Euridice 

Gluck 

Iphigenie  auf 

Tauris 

— 

— 

— 

Diana 

— 

Goldmark,  Carl 

Die  Konigin  von 

Saba  or  The 

Queen  of  Sheba 

— 

— 

— 

Sulamith 

Konigin 

Sulamith 

Goldmark 

Merlin 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Viviane 

Gotz,  Hermann 

Der   Widerspansti- 

gen  Zahmung  or 

The  Taming  of  the 

Shrew 

— 

— 

— 

Katharina 

Katharina 

Gounod,       Charles 

Margarethe  or 

Fr. 

Faust 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Margarethe 

Halevy,  Jacques  Fr. 

Die  Judin  or 

La  juive 

— 

Eudora 

Eudora 

Eudora 

Recha 

Hofmann,  Heinrich 

Armin 

— 

— 

— 

Albrun 

— 

K. 

Holstein,  Franz  Fr. 

Der  Heideschacht 

— 

— 

Bjorn 

— 

— 

von 

Lortzing,  G.  Albert 

Der     Waffenschmied 

zu  Worms 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Irmentraut 

Lortzing 

Zar    und    Zimmer- 

mann 

— 

Marie 

Marie 

Marie 

— 

Lortzing 

Undine 

— 

Undine 

— 

— 

— 

Lortzing 

Die  beiden  Schutzen 

— 

Karoline 

— 

Karoline 

—  , 

Lortzing 

Der        Wildschutz 

or  Die  Stimme 

der  Natur 

— 

— 

— 

Baronin 

Baronin 

Freimann 

Freimann 

492 


My  Path  Through  Life 


Composers 

Operas 

Prague 
1866-1868 

Dantzic 
1868-1869 

Leipsic 
1869-1870 

Berlin 
1870-1885 

Visiting  engagements: 
America,  London, 
Vienna,  Berlin, 
Munich,  Bayreuth, 
Dresden,  Stockholm,. 
Budapest,  etc. 

Maillart,  Aim£ 

Das  Glockchen 

des    Eremiten,    or 

Les     Dragons     de 

Villars 

— 

RoseFri- 

— 

— 

— 

quet 

Marschner,  Heinrich 

Hans  Heiling 

— 

Anna 

Anna 

Anna 

— 

Marschner 
M6hul,  Etienne  H. 

Der  Vampyr 
Josef  in  Agypten   or 

Malvina 

— 

— 

Joseph 

— 

— 

Benjamin 

— 

— 

Mendelssohn,  Felix 

Sommernach  tstraum 

or        Midsummer 

Night's  Dream 

— 

— 

Elf 

—      . 

— 

Meyerbeer,       Gia- 

Die    Hugenotten     or 

como 

Les  Huguenots 

First  and 

Mar- 

Marguerite 

Marguerite 

Marguerite 

Second 

gu^rite 

de  Valois 

de  Valois 

Valentine 

Maid   of 

de  Valois 

Honour 

Meyerbeer 

Der    Prophet    or    Le 

Prophete 

— 

— 

— 

Bertha 

Bertha 

Meyerbeer 

Robert  der  Teufel  or 

Robert  le  Diable 

— 

— 

— 

Isabella 

Isabella 

Meyerbeer 

Die    Afrikanerin     or 

L'Africaine 

Anna 

— 

— 

Ines 

Selika 

Meyerbeer 

Dinorah  or   Le    par- 

don de  Ploermel 

Shepherd 

Dinorah 

Dinorah 

— 

— 

Meyerbeer 

Ein  Feldlager  in  Schle- 

sien  (Der  Nordstine) 

— 

— 

— 

Vielka 

— 

Mozart,    Wolfgang 

Don  Giovanni  or  Don 

Amadeus 

Juan 

— 

Elvira 

Zerline 

Zerline 

Donna 

Elvira 

Anna 

Mozart 

Entfuhrung  aus  dem 

Serail 

— 

— 

Blondchen 

Blondchen 

Blondchen 

Konstanze 

Konstanze 

Mozart 

Cosi  fan  tutte 

— 

— 

— 

Dolores 

— 

Mozart 

Hochzeit  des  Figaro  or 

Le  nozze  di  Figaro 

Barb- 

Susanne 

Page 

Page 

Countess 

chen 

Susanne 

Opera  Repertoire  of  Lilli  Lehmann 


493 


Composers 

Operas 

Prague 

1866-1868 

Dantzic 
1868-1869 

Leipsic 
1869-1*70 

Berlin 
1870-1885 

Visiting  engagements: 
America,  London, 
Vienna,  Berlin, 
Munich,  Bayreuth, 
Dresden,  Stockholm, 
Budapest,  etc. 

Mozart 

Die     Zauberflote    or 

The  Magic  Flute 

I.  Boy 

I.  Lady 

I.  Lady 

I.  Lady 

Konigin 

I.  Lady 

Konigin 

Konigin 

der  Nacht 

Pamina 

der 

der  Nacht 

(Queen    of 

Nacht 

Pamina 

the  Night) 

Mozart 

Idomeneo 

— 

— 

— 

Ilia 

— 

Mozart 

Titus 

— 

— 

— 

Servilia 

— 

Mozart 

Der   Schauspieldirek 

tor 

— 

— 

Made- 

Frau 

— 

moiselle 

Lange 

Uhlig 

Muller,  Adolf 

Lumpazivagabundus 

Sepherl 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Muller 

Einen  Jux  will  er  sich 

machen 

Lisette 

— 

— 

— 

— 

N  e  s  s  1  e  r,      Victor 

Am  Alexandertag 

— 

— 

? 

— 

— 

Ernst 

Nicolai,  Otto 

Die   lustigen   Weiber 

von     Windsor     or 

The   Merry  Wives 

of  Windsor 

— 

Frau 

Anna 

Anna 

Frau  Fluth 

Fluth 

Offenbach,  Jacques 

Grossherzogin       von 

Gerolstein    or    La 

grande  duchesse  de 

Gerolstein 

Char- 

Gross- 

Gross- 

— 

— 

lotte 

herzogin 

herzogin 

Offenbach 

Orpheus  in  der  Un- 

terwelt  or   Orphe"e 

aux  enfers 

Cupido 

— 

Euridice 

— 

— 

Venus 

OSenbach 

Pariser  Leben  or  La 

vie  parisienne 

Melanie 

— 

Metella 

— 

— 

Offenbach 

Blaubart    or     Barbe 

bleu 

Heloise 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Offenbach 

Schwatzer  von  Sara- 

gossa   or  Les    Ba- 

vards 

Pedro 

— 

— 

— 

— 

494 


My  Path  Through  Life 


Composers 

Operas 

Prague 
1866-1868 

Dantzic 
1868-1869 

Leipsic 
1869-1870 

Berlin 
1870-1885 

Visiting  engagements: 
America,  London, 
Vienna,  Berlin, 
Munich,  Bayreuth, 
Dresden,  Stockholm, 
Budapest,  etc. 

Rossini,  G.  Antonio 

Barbier    von    Sevilla 

or    11    barbiere    di 

Seviglia 

— 

Rosine 

— 

Rosine 

Rosine 

Rossini 

Tell  or  Guillaume  Tell 

— 

Gemmy 

Gemmy 

Mathilde 

— 

Rubinstein,  Anton 

Die  Maccabaer 

— 

— 

— 

Noemi 

— 

Rubinstein 

Nero 

— 

— 

— 

Poppaa 

— 

Scholz,  Bernhard 

Zieten-Husaren 

— 

— 

— 

Josepha 

— 

Schumann,  Robert 

Genoveva 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Genoveva 

Schumann 

Manfred 

— 

— 

Erdgeist 

Erdgeist 

— 

Spohr,  Louis 

Jessonda 

— 

— 

— 

Amazilli 

— 

Supp6,  Franz  von 

Sch6ne    Weiber    von 

Georgien 

Melanie 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Suppd 

Die  sch6ne  Galathea 

— 

— 

Galathea 

— 

— 

Suppe" 

Flotte  Bursche 

Brand 

— 

Brand 

— 

— 

Suppe" 

Zehn    Madchen    und 

kein  Mann 

Limonia 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Taubert,  Wilhelm 

Macbeth 

— 

— 

— 

I.  Witch 

— 

Taubert 

Cesario 

— 

— 

— 

Maria 

— 

Thomas,  Ambroise 

Mignon 

— 

— 

Philine 

Philine 

Philine 

Uberlee,  Adalbert 

K6nig  Otto's  Braut- 

fahrt 

— 

— 

— 

Hetmaris 

— 

Verdi,  Giuseppe 

Maskenball     or     Un 

ballo  in  maschera 

— 

— 

— 

Oscar 

Amalia 

Verdi 

Rigoletto 

Countess 

Gilda 

— 

— 

— 

Ceprano 

Verdi 

Troubadour  or  11  tro- 

vatore 

Ines 

Leonore 

Leonore 

Leonore 

Leonore 

Verdi 

Traviata 

— 

— 

— 

Violetta 

Violetta 

Verdi 

Ernani 

Johanna 

— 

— 

— 

Elvira 

Verdi 

Aida 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Aida 

Verdi 

Nebukadnezar  or  Na- 

buco 

Anna 

— 

— 

— 

1   — 

Wagner,  Richard 

Rienzi 

— 

— 

Fr  ied  ens- 

Irene 

Irene 

bo  te 

i 

(Messenger 

of  Peace) 

Wagner 

Lohengrin 

— 

— 

— 

to«. 

Qrtrud 

Opera  Repertoire  of  Lilli  Lehmann 


495 


Composers 

Operas 

Prague 
1866-1868 

Dantzic 
1868-1869 

Leipsic 
1869-1870 

Berlin 
1870-1885 

Visiting  engagements: 
America,  London, 
Vienna,  Berlin, 
Munich,  Bayreuth, 
Dresden,  Stockholm, 
Budapest,  etc. 

Wagner 

Tannhauser 

Elirten- 

— 

— 

Venus 

Elisabeth 

knabe 

Venus 

(Shep- 

herd) 

Wagner 

Rheingold 

— 

— 

— 

— 

I.  Rhein- 

maiden 

Fricka 

Wagner 

Die  Walkure 

— 

— 

— 

Fricka 

Brunhild 

Sieglinde 

Sieglinde, 

Brunhild 

Helmwiege 

Wagner 

Siegfried 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Brunhild 

Waldvogel 

(Forest 

Bird) 

Wagner 

Die       Gotterdamme- 

rung 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Brunhild 

I.  Rhine- 

maiden 

Wagner 

Tristan     und     Isolde 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Isolde 

Weber,  Carl  Maria 

Der  Freischutz 

Braut- 

— 

Annchen 

Annchen 

— 

von 

jungfer 

Agathe 

Weber 

Euryanthe 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Euryanthe 

Weber 

Oberon 

Meer- 

— 

Fatima 

Meer- 

— 

madchei! 

madchen 

Weber 

Preciosa 

Lied 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Wurst,  Richard 

A-ing-fo-hi 

— 

— 

— 

Laura 

— 

Wurst 

Die  Offiziere  der  Kai- 

serin 

— 

— 

— 

Furstin 

— 

Zaytz 

Mannschaft  an  Bord 

Jean 

— 

— 

— 

— 

Index 


Abt,  Franz,  242 

Afrikanerin  (L' Africaine) ,  398 

Agathe  (Freischiitz),  147 

Agoult,  d',  191 

A'ida,  279,  342,  397 

A-ing-fo-hi  (opera),  145,  194 

Aix-la-Chapelle,  292,  294 

Albany,  377 

Albert,  d',  400 

Albert  Hall,  279 

Alexander  II.,  Czar,  160 

Alexandrine    von     Mecklenburg- 

Schwerin,  164 

Allmacht,  (by  Schubert),  436 
Alma  Tadema,  354 
A  Ipenkonig  und  Menschenfeind,  opera 

by  Raimund,  48 
Alten   (actress),  wife   of    the   Prince 

of  Hanau,  137 
Alvary,  Max,  358  f.,  367,  371,  375  f., 

478 

Amalienbad,  near  Brunswick,  18 
Amanda,  Aunt,  vide  dall'  Armi 
Amazilli  (Jessonda),  148 
America,  329  ff.,  362  ff.,  141  ff.,  169 

ff.,  408,  441  ff. 
American  criticism,  378 

—  customs,  362  ff . 
Amfortas,  306,  452 
Amman,  singer,  201-203  ff- 
Ampthill,  Lord  and  Lady,  163,  172, 

276 

Anastasia,  Grandduchess,  168 
Andrade,  d',  394,  441,  461,  464 
Angela,  Mother,  63  ff. 
Angeli,  H.  von  (painter),  163,  171 
Angermann's  beer,  225 
Anhalt,  164 
Appenzell,  10 

Apponyi,  Albert,  Count,  387 
Arditi  (conductor)  276,  369 


Arena  in  Prague,  47-49 
Armida,  opera  by  Gluck,  292,  388 
Arnstadt,  Charlotte  von,  n 
Arnurius  —  singers,    man    and    wife 

109 

Artner,  von  (singer),  436 
Artot,  D£sir(§e,  78,  128,  152,  165,  167, 

172,  175 

Aschenbrodel  (Cinderella),  88 
Ascher,  (comedian),  78 
Athalia,  126 
Attersee,  440 
Auber,  175,  256 
Augusta,  Empress  of  Germany,  162, 

165,  261 

Ave  Maria  of  Gounod,  266 
Avenarius,  13 


B 


Bach,   Johann   Sebastian,    138,    171, 

345,  357 

Bachmann,  Edward  (tenor),  78 
Backstrom,  Lilly,  259,  265  ff. 
Baden-Baden,  261 
Baier,  Johannes,  Dr.,  487 
Baison,  Augusta  (actress),  115  ff. 
Ball,  Alwin,  187 
Bambridge,  Mr.,  321,  331 
Barbier  von  Seviglia,  opera  by  Rossini, 

71,  108,  136,  153,  257 
Barbieri  (operatic  composer),  86 
Barcelona,  175 

Barwinkel  (wardrobe  woman),  28 
Bauer  als  Millionar,  48 
Baumeister  (actor),  78 
Bayreuth,  42,  163,  179,  186,  189-190 

ff.,  196,    198  ff.,   201   ff.,  243   ff., 

251,  300  ff.,  331,  342  f.,  380,  387, 

415  ff.,  451,  461 
Beaumarchais,  466 
Beck,  Johann  Nep.  (singer),  78,  326 
Beckmesser,  290 


497 


498 


Index 


Beethoven,  76-85  ff.,  138,  171,  294, 

378,  454 
Behr,  Heinrich  (operatic  manager), 

128,  131 
Behrens,  Conrad  (basso),  254,  257, 

259,  260 
Beiden  Helden,  68 

Beiden  Schutzen,  opera  by  Lortzing, 
loi,  106,  115 

Bellini,  76,  344.     Vide  Norma 

Benedix,  Roderich,  in 

Bergen,  270 

Bergh,  Henry,  351 

Berl  (pension  in  Leipsic),  124,  132 

Angeli,  124 

— Anna,  124 

Toni,  124 

Berlin,  81,  86,  97  f.,  104,  120  £.,  126, 
131  ff.,  139  f.,  143  ff.,  159,  164,  169, 
173,  178,  180,  182,  186,  188,  192, 
198,  202,  203,  233  f.,  242,  244,  248, 

260,  262  f.,  271  ff.,  288,  300,  302, 
308  ff.,  314  ff.,  324,  331,  346  f.,  351, 
362,  366,  386,  393,  409,  453,  467 

Berneck,  near  Bayreuth,  236 
Bernardine  (nun),  23,  64 
Bernhardt,  Sarah,  393,  400 
Betrogene  Kadi,  Der,  by  Gluck,  415 
Betz,  Franz,  145,  149,  157,  195,  202, 

210,  214,  228  ff.,  232,  236  f.,  239, 
i    251,  254,  257,  259,  263,  280  f.,  285, 

299,  308,  316  ff.,  325,  330,    419, 

428 

Bignio  (singer),  78 
Binder  (actress),  60,  68,  71,  87,  195 
Birnbaum,     Augusta     (Princess     of 

Hanau),  27  ff. 
Bischof,  Dr.  (lawyer),  393 
Bismarck,  Prince,  160,  164  169 

—William  (Bill),  172 
Bissing,  nee  Wesendonk,  308 
Bizet,  vide  Carmen 
Bjornson,  269 
Blowsky,  22 
Bock,  Hugo,  467 
Bodenstedt,  P.,  184 
Bognar,  Frederica  (actress),  78 
Bonn,  261 

Booth,  Edwin  (actor),  272 
Bormio,  295 
"Borussia,"  chorus,  147 
Boston,  351,  357,  374  f.,  385 
Bozen,  295 
Brag,  Hermann,  462 
Brahms,  Johannes,  252 
Brandstottner  (basso),  58 
Brandt,  Carl,  222  ff.,  243  ff. 
Fritz,  243  ff.,  304,  315 


Brandt,  Marianne,  148,  154  ff.,  194, 

205,  232,  251,  254,  281,  292,  294, 

311,341,  352,36i,  366 
Brangane,  311,  415  f. 
Brema  (singer),  442 
Bremen,  12,  14,  331,  362,  378,  382 
Brenner,  Jenny  (singer),  50,  76 
Breslau,  n,  40,  179,  342 
Breuer  (singer),  466 
Brighton,  279 
Brioschi,  473 
Brockhaus,  13 
Bronsart,  302 
Brooklyn,  380 
Brougham,  Lord  Henry,  52 
Bruchsal,  3,  4,  6 
Briill,  Ignaz,  251,  441 
Brunhild,  316,   330,   353,   371,   376, 

416  ff. 

Brunswick,  12,  18 

Buch,  Baroness  von,  vide  Schleinitz 
Bucharest,  408 
Budapest,  369,  387 
Buff,  Charlotte,  27 
Buffalo,  358 
Bulow,  Hans  von,  80,  170,  278, 292  f ., 

386  f.,  415 

Daniela,  293  f. 

vide  Thode 

— Princess,  vide  Donhoff 
Buls  (singer),  290 
Bungert,  August,  402  ff. 
Bunzl,  46  f.,  75 
Burggraf  (actress),  34,  73 
Burgstaller,  Alois  (singer),  427,  441 
Burns,  Robert,  412 
Buska,  Johanna  (actress),  439 


Cabisius  (baritone),  103 

Cadier,  266,  267 

California,  453 

Campanini  (singer),  276 

Camporeale,  vide  Donhoff 

Cannstatt,  32,  33 

Carlo  Broschi  (opera),  101,  102,  105, 

III 

Carlsbad,  80 

Carmen,  82,  257,  289  ff.,  308,  341 
Carmen     Sylva    146,    402    ff.     (vide 

Elisabeth,  Queen  of  Roumania) 
Carnegie,  Andrew,  449 
Carol,  King  of  Roumania,  404,  407  ff. 
Carolath,  Princess,  170 
Carreno,  Teresa,  383  f. 
Carus  (stage-employee),  324 
Cassel,  12,  14,  20,  25,  29,  93,  188,  279 


Index 


499 


Cassowitz  called  Cassio  (tenor),  69, 

71 

Catenhusen  (conductor),  352,  361 
Cech,  Adolf,  69 

Karl  (basso),  59,  69,  71,  294 

Cecilie,  German  Crown  Princess,  168 

Cesario,  opera  by  Taubert,  150,  194 

Chabriard  (musician),  392 

Charlotte,  Princess,  254 

Chaussieur,  French  teacher,  23 

Chevillard  (musician),  392 

Chicago,  349,  352,  385,  397 

Chimborazo,  8 

Chopin,  88,  444 

Christiania,  265,  267 

Christoffers  (captain),  447,  448 

Christus,  by  Rubinstein,  196 

Chuden  (singer),  109 

Cincinnati,  352,  357 

Claar,  Emil  (actor),  129,  130,  132 

Clavigo,  130 

Cleveland,  President,  383 

Clottu  Institute,  23 

Cologne,  179,  198,  20 1,  246,  410 

Cologne  Music  Festival,  252 

Condamine,  2,  8  (vide  Kunzle) 

Confirmation,  51 

Connaught,  Duchess  of,  276 

Copenhagen,  81,  267,  367 

Coquelin,  130 

Cornelius,  411 

Cosifan  tutte  (Despina),  282,  459,  486 

Covent  Garden,  275,  319,  321 

Cramer  (Bearer  of  the  Grail),  306 

Crown  Princess,  German,  163 

Czernitzki,  Fraulein,  96 


D 


Dagmar,  Empress  of  Russia,  367,  368 
dall'  Armi,  i,  7,  8,  268 
Damrosch,  Leopold,  323 

Walter,  344,  353 

Danckelmann,  Count  and  Countess, 

173,  231,  234 
Dantzic,  73,  86  f.,  96,  97  ft.,  136,  140, 

145,  158,  176,  288 
Darmstadt,  12,  246 
David  (violinist),  126  f. 
Degele  as  Beckmesser,  290 
Dehneke,  (capellmeister),  no 
Deidesheim,  3 
Delia,  Hermine,  129,  133 
Delibes,  Leo,  415 
Demut  (singer),  466 
Dente  (capellmeister),  256 
Dernburg,  382 
Dessoir  (actor),  78 


Devrient,  78,  132,  244 

Dietrich  (actor),  60 

Dieudonne'    (proprietress    of    hotel), 

277 

Dillner  (singer),  294 
Dinorah,  50,  79,  103,  281  f. 
Dippel,    Andreas   (tenor),  442,  448, 

450,  457 

Doepler,  Prof.,  220,  429 
Dohm,  170 
Doktor  und  A  potheker  (opera  by  Dit- 

tersdorf),  101 
Dolly,  Princess  Talleyrand-Pe"rigord, 

173 

Dolt  (actor),  48 
Don  Giovanni,  vide  Don  Juan 
Donhoff,    173,   221,    234,   435;    vide 

Seydewitz 
Donizetti,  76 
Don  Juan,  78,  82,  101,  106,  149,  218, 

387,  389,  394,  441,  450,  456,  459  f- 

472,  479  f. 
Donna  Anna,  256  f.,  276, 291  £.,324  ff., 

325,369,418,441,456 
Don  Quixote,  485 
Dorenberg,  Consul,  447 
Doring,  78 

Dorn,  Heinrich,  15,  145 
Dover,  332 

Drahota,  Emilie,  35,  53 
Dresden,  80,  180  f.,  288  ff.,  324,  403, 

453,  45.6  f. 

Driese  (singer),  286,  308 
Drontheim,  268 
Dustmann-Meyer,  Louise,  40,  78 


E 


Eames,  Emma,  442,  443 
Ebner-Eschenbach,  439 
Eckert,  Carl  (operatic  conductor), 

84,  150,  159,  170,  196,  202,  232,  263 
Edelmann  (editor),  134 
Edinburgh,  Duke  of,  321,  331 
Ehnn,  Bertha  (singer),  125 
Eichhorn  (soubrette),  115 
Eilers  as  Fasolt,  214,  236 
Elisabeth,  Queen  of  Prussia,  168 
Queen  of  Roumania,  4O2ff.;  vide 

Carmen  Sylva 

— Princess,  254 
Elisabeth  in  Tannhduser,  373 
Elmblad  (singer),  204,  207,  421 
Elsa,  vide  Lohengrin 
Elster,  Bad,  140 
Elvira  in  Don  Juan,  456 

— in  Die  Stimme  von  Portici,  148 
Ems,  246 


500 


Index 


Engel  (theatrical  manager),  98,  394 

— Gustav  (critic),  145 
Engel bart  (captain),  445 
Entfuhrung  aus  dem  Serail  (Blond- 

chen),  106,  282,  290,  315,  477 
Erard, 9 
Erie,  Lake,  360 

Erkel  (operatic  conductor),  369 
Erl  (singer),  290 
Erler,  Hermann  (publisher),  412 
Erlkonig,  by  Schubert,  436 
Ernani,  79,  264 
Ernst,   Heinrich    (singer),    150,    163, 

195,  252  f.,  308,  415 

Moritz  (manager),  177,  194 

Eugen,  Archduke,  458,  485 
Euryanthe,  opera  by  Weber,  371 


Fafner,  422 

Fantasca,  136 

Farrar,  Geraldine,  265,  462,  479 

Fasolt,  422 

Faust  by  Goethe,  244,  323,  391 

by  Gounod,  70,  159,  264,  (Mar- 

garethe)  275,  376,  443 

by  Spohr,  252 

Faust  Ouverture,  by  R.  Wagner,  62 
Feigert  (dancing  master),  45 
Feigl  (consul-general),  372 
Feistmantel  (actor),  48 
Feldlager  in  Schlesien,  vide  Nordstern, 

opera  by  Meyerbeer,  144,  148,  330 
Felix  (singer),  466 
Ferrieres,  151 

Feuerbach,  near  Stuttgart,  33 
Fidelia,  opera  by  Beethoven,  60,  128, 

218    (Florestan),   260,    276,    314, 

324  f.,  367,  368  f.,  394,  436,  441, 

450,  468 
Figaro's    Hochzeit,    Le    Marriage    de 

Figaro,  opera  by  Mozart,  95,  106, 

158  f.,    187,    211,   389,    436,    455, 

4620*. 
Fille  du    Regiment    (La)    opera    by 

Donizetti,  177 
Fischer,  Emil,  86,  100,   103,  106  ff., 

140,  341,  367,  397  ff. 

Franz,  193,  210,  222 

Rosa,  no,  116,  141  f.,  363,  374, 

399  f- 

Fitzner  Quartet,  457 
Flick  und  Flock,  ballet,  136 
Florence,  297 
Flosshilde,  191 

Flying    Dutchman,    The,    opera    by 
Wagner,  378 


Forest  Bird,  (Siegfried),  193 

Forstel,  Gertrude  (singer),  479 

Fra  Diavolo,  18,  ill 

Franke  (impresario),  319 

Frankfort,  n,  360 

Franz  Joseph  I.,  Emperor  of  Austria, 

1 60,  458,  462,  466  ff. 

Franz,  Richard,  Dr.,  412 

•Robert,  126,  412 


Frau  Fluth,  103 

— Grau,  56  ff. 
Freia,  200 
Freischutz,  opera  by  Weber,  12,  71, 

88,  147,  318 
Fricka,  316,  443 
Fricke  (ballet  master),  215,  222,  225 

— (basso),  149,  202,  281  f.,  316  f. 
Fridjof,  148 

Friedberg  (danseuse),  78,  172 
Friede,  148 
Friedrich,  Amalia,  vide  Materna 

Karl,  Princess,  168,  276 

Leopold,  Princess,  436 

Wilhelm  III.,  144 

Wilhelm  IV.,  168 

Wilhelm,  Crown  Prince,  163 

Fuchs  as  Klingsor,  306 
Furstenberg,  Carl  Egon  von,  173 
Furstner  (publisher),  202 


G 


Gadski-Tauscher,  Johanna,  462,  479 

Galassi  (singer),  276 

Gall  (intendant),  31 

Gallmeyer,  Josefine,  78 

Garrick,  205 

Geistinger,  Marie,  78 

Gene'e,  Richard  (operatic  conductor), 

86  f. 

Genoveva,  187 

George,  Crown  Prince  of  Greece,  367 
Gericke,  William  (conductor),  351 
Gerster,  Etelka,  173,  279 
Gey,  Marie  (singer),  149 
Gluck,  138,  415 
Gmunden,  309 

Goethe,  27,  52,  58,  121,  138,  391 
Goethe  bedroom  in  Weimar,  45 
Goldenes  Kreuz,  opera  by  Brull,  153 
Goldmark,  Carl,  262,  369,  441 
Gossau  (St.  Gall),  10 
Gossmann,  Friederike,  78 
Gothenburg,  260 
Gotterddmmerung,    193    f.,    198,    210, 

228,  272,  323,  353,  356,   371,  378, 

386,  420,  422,  437 
Gotz  (composer),  281 


Index 


501 


Gotze,  Emil  (singer),  327 

Goula  (capellmeister),  175 

Gounod,  70,  266,  486 

Grandauer,  460 

Grandduchess  of  Gerolstein,  operetta 

by  Offenbach,  132 
Grane  in  the  Gotterdammerung,  377, 

420 

Grantzow,  Adele,  136 
Grau,     Maurice    (impresario),     396, 

442  f.,  450 
Grengg  (singer),  421 
Gripsholm,  265 
Grobeker,  Karl,  in 
Grobecker  (soubrette),  78 
Gross,  Adolph  (Bayreuth),  303,  415 

ff-,  435 

Ferdinand  (tenor),  133 

Karl,  479 

Grossi,  Charlotte  (singer),  149,  195, 

198,  200,  315 
Grunewald  near  Berlin,  163,  382  ff., 

~451 
Grunow,  211 

Griitzmacher  (musician),  218 
Gudbransdalen,  269 
Gulbranson,  Ellen,  422 
Gudehus  (singer),  319,  320,  437 
Gunther-Bachmann  (singer),   128  f., 

132,  449 

Gura,  Eugen,  211,  214  f.,  229 
Gurnemanz,  306 
Gustav  III.,  256 

Gustav,  Crown  Prince  of  Sweden,  259 
Gutheil-Schoder,  466 
Gutrune,  198,  200,  376 


H 


Haase,  Friedrich,  140 

Habelmann  (stage-manager),  338 

Hagemann,  Alfons  (lawyer),  134 

Hagen,  421 

Hahn,  Reynaldo,  458,  461,  464 

Hatevy,  344 

Halir,  35 

Hallstrom,  264 

Hamburg,  18,  34,  175, 179  £.,260,  386 

Hamerling,  104 

Hanau,  Friederich,  Prince  of,  27 

Heinrich,  Prince  of,  137 

Princess  of,  92 

Handel,  138 

Hanover,  94,  302 

Hans  Heiling  (opera  by  Marschner), 

82,  102,  108 
Hans  Sachs,  451 
Hanslick,  294 


Harries- Wippern  (singer),  148 
Hassel    (stage-manager   and    actor), 
42,  48,  76,  107,  178 

Theodora,  27,  34 

Hatzfeldt,  169 

Hauk,  Minnie,  252  f.,  281 

Havemeyer,  Henry  O.,  and  Theodore, 

354,  355 

Haydn,  Joseph,  171,  335,  467 
Haydter,    Alexander    (singer),    227, 

466,  479 
Haymarket,  275 
Hebel,  Johann  Peter,  60 
Heber,  Heta,  479 
Heffter  (judge),  187 
Heideschacht  (opera),  137 
Heimkehr  (opera  by  Eckert),  148 
Hein  (stage-manager),  177 
Heine,  Heinrich,  164,  485 
Heinrich,  Prince  of  Hanau,  137 

— landlady  in  Dantzic,  100 
Helbig,  Fritz,  125  f. 
Hedwig,  332,  333,  335,  372  f., 

387,  457 

Helmers  (captain),  332  ff.,  338,  446 

Helmholtz,  170 

Helmwiege,  193,  217 

Hempel,  Frieda  (singer),  479 

Hendrichs,  78 

Henry  (privy  councillor),  153 

Henschel,  Georg,  252 

Hermann,  Reinhold  (pianist),  126, 383 

von  Weimar,  Prince  and  Prin- 
cess, 435 

Herrlich  (singer),  205  f. 

Hertel  (painter),  169 

Herzfeld  (actor),  129 

Herzfeld-Link  (actress),  129 

Hes  (basso),  456 

Hesse-Cassel,  Elector  of,  92 

Heyking,  372 

Higginson,  351 

Hildebrandt  (painter),  268 

Hilgermann  (singer),  457,  466 

Hill  as  Alberich,  210  f.,  227,  236  f. 

Hiller,  Ferdinand,  252 

Hirschfeld,  Robert,  486 

Hoboken,  339 

Hochberg,  Count,  386,  393 

Hoch-Chlumetz,  96 

Hofmeister  (singer),  253 

Hohenzollern,  Princess  Marie,  1 16 

Hollander  (Der  Fliegende),  opera  by 
Wagner,  vide  Flying  Dutchman. 

Holstein,  Franz  von,  137 

Holtermann    (Court    Chamberlain), 

255 
Hoppe,  99  f.,  103 


502 


Index 


Horina,  Louise  (singer),  149,  308 

Horwitz  (singer),  55,  69,  71 

Hotowitz,  92  f. 

Hugenotten,  Die,  opera  by  Meyer- 
beer, 12,  71,  75,  100  f.,  105,  121, 
132,  135,  I52,  184,  290 

Hiilsen,  Botho  von  (intendant),  98, 
130,  144,  148,  151,  158,  163,  166, 
181  f.,  192  ff.,  199,  202,  205,  206, 
234,  248,  275,  281  ff.,  285,  288,  302, 

315,  317,  324,  329, 330,  347,  364  f-, 

386 

Georg  von,  413,  449 

Hummel  (conductor),  456  f.,  458 
Humour  on  the  stage,  477 
Huttenstein,  near  Scharfling,  439 


Indianapolis,  360 
Iphigenie,  80,  388 
Irmentraut,  449 


Jachmann- Wagner,     Johanna,     193, 

205,  230 
Jahn,  Wilhelm  (conductor),  78,  83  f., 

86,  183  f.,  292,  294,  326,  365,  388, 

393,  4.2i 

Jaide  (singer),  218,  227 
Janauschek,  Marie,  78 
Jauner,  Franz,  78 
Jean  Paul,  214 
Jensen,  411 

Jessonda  (opera),  12  f.,  60,  78,  148 
Jew-baiting,  54 
Jewish  cemetery,  65 
Joachim,  Amalia,  19 

— Josef,  458 
Johann  von  Paris  (opera),  101,  103, 

106 

Joseph  II.,  66 

Josepha  (Zietenhusareri) ,  148 
Josua,  292 
Juch,  Emma,  359 
Jtidin  (Jewess),  opera,  102,  107,  359, 

387,  394 

Jupiter  Symphony,  486 
Jiiterbog,  19 


Kahlbeck,  460 

Kahle,  Richard  (actor),  124,  129,  150 

Kainz-Prause  (singer),  79 

Kalisch,  David,  170 

Paul,  330,   357  f.,  368,   372  ff., 


375,  394  *-,  397  f-,  409,  4".  4*5, 

439  ff.,  487  f. 
Kals,  295 
Kaltenbach's   Hotel,    Niagara  Falls, 

360 

Karl  XV.,  266,  367 
Karl,  Prince  of  Hanau,  137 
Katschthaler,  Prince-Archbishop,  485 
Kaunitz,  Countess,  72 
Kean,  Edmund,  205 
Keglevich,  Count  (intendant),  369 
Kiepert,  487 
King  Humbert,  296 
Kittel,  Hermine,  479 
Kiurina  (singer),  466 
Klaffsky  (singer),  429 
Klein  (merchant  in  Prague),  21 
Klesheim,  Baron,  dialect  poet,  309 
Kliemke,  F.,  36 

Klindworth,  Karl,  170,  293,  307,  400 
Klopfer(  singer),  456 
Knaak  (actor),  78 
Kogel  (singer),  203 
Kohler,  Karl  Felix,  121  ff.,  160 
Konigin  der  Nacht,  vide  Queen  of  the 

Night 

von  Saba,  vide  Queen  of  Sheba 

Konigsberg,  13,  104,  145,  166,  219 

Kornwestheim,  33 

Kotzebue,  68 

Kranich  (stage  machinist),  424 

Krastel,  Fritz,  78 

Kraus,  Ernst,  441 

Krause,  Georg,  150 

Krebs-Michalesi  (singer),  132,  137 

Krehbiel,  Henry  (critic),  379 

Kroll  Theatre,  98,  173,  394,  395 

Krolop,  Franz  (basso),  150,  308 

Krondiamanten  (opera  by  Auber),  101 

Krones,  Therese  (farce),  48 

Kriiger  (tenor-buffo),  150 

Kriisi,  Pastor,  372 

Kuenburg,  Gandolf  Count  von,  485 

Kuhle,  Mathilde  (actress),  352 

Kundry,  306,  380 

Kiinzle,  8,  26,  352 

Kurt,  Melanie,  479 


Lammert,  Minna  (singer),  191  f.,  198  f ., 

203,  210,  236,  308,  321 
Lamoureux,  Charles,  391  f. 
Landau,  Leopold,  34 
Landfriede,  opera  by  Brull,  251 
Landgraf,  Dr.  (physician),  427 
Landvogt  (agent),  96 
Langer,  Anton,  vide  vom  Juristentag 


Index 


503 


Lasalle  (baritone),  397  f. 
Laube,  Heinrich,  104,  107,  128,  131, 
177 

Iduna, 132 

Laue",  Councillor  of  Justice,  283 

Lauer  (physician),  153 

Lear  (King),  272 

Ledebur,  33 

Ledersr  (landlord  in  Prague),  21 

Lehmann,  Karl  August  (father),  15  ff., 

93  f- 

Lehmann,  Marie,  nee  Loew  (mother), 
17,  87  ff.,  131  ff.,  137,  188,  195, 
I98ff.,2ioff.,2i9,267,3oof.,3o8ff., 
314,  323  f.,  438,  488 

Marie  (sister  Riezl),  42  ff.,  53, 

71  ff.,  90,  94  f.,  107,  115,  120,  134, 
137,  140,  179,  189,  191  ff.,  198  f., 

2O3,  22O,  222  f.,  225  f.,  230,  236  f., 
239,  246,  279,  292,  300  f.,  308  f., 

312  f.,  327,  353,  365,  384  f.,  390, 

394,  418  f.,  426,  438  ff.,  443  f.,  448, 

451;  456 

vide  Hanau 

Leipsic,  12  f.,  73,  94,  104,  107,  in, 

116,  120  f.,  124  ff.,  126  ff.,  134  ff., 

145,  150,  158,  177,  182,  183,  449 
Leman,  von  (actor),  129 
Lenbach,  Franz,  152,  322 
Leporello,  483  ff. 
Le  Prese,  296     . 

Le  roi  I' a  dit  (opera  by  Delibes),  252 
Leschetizky,  Frau  von,  486 
Levi,  Hermann  (conductor),  218,  225, 

303  ff.,  322,  460 
Lewinsky,  78 
Liebau,  Julius,  479 
Liechtenstein,   Prince  and  Princess, 

170,  435 
Lienz,  295 
Lillehammer,  268 
Linda  di  Chamounix  (opera),  165 
Lindemann,  Fritz  (pianist),  467 
Linhardt  (lawyer),  36 
Link,   Georg  (actor),  129;  vide  also 

Herzfeld 
Liszt,  Franz,  169,  196,  210  ff.,  211, 

345,  436 

Lobkowitz,  Prince,  96 
Loge,  445 
Lohengrin  (opera  by  Wagner),  101  ff., 

70,    256,    (Elsa)    264,    276,    378, 

(Ortrud)  413,  450 
London,  27,  188,  275  ff.,  288,  319  f., 

331  f.,  368  f.,  450 
Lorenz,  Leo,  335 
Louisville,  350 
Low  (Loew),  family: 


— Alban,  I,  8,  9,  60 
— Amanda,  i,  7,  17 
— Emilie,  12  ff. 
— Hans,  8 
— Jacob,  8 
-Josef  Adam,  8 


— Julchen, 
— Lilli,  12,  15,  61 

— Low  Marie,   vide.   Lehmann,  9, 
12  ff. 
-Nicholas,  2  f.,  6  f. 


Lowe,  Johann,  Carl  Gottfried  (com- 
poser), 211 

— Ludwig  (court  actor),  78 
(theatrical  manager),  342 

Lowenklau,  vide  Backstrom,  Lilly 

Lucca,  Pauline,  19, 80 ff.,  147  f.,  158  f., 
290,  439 

Lucerne,  Lake  of,  188 

Lucia    di    Lammermoor,    opera    by 
Donizetti,  327,  385 

Lucrezia  Borgia,  opera  by  Donizetti, 
no,  330  f.,  369,394 

Ludwig  II.,   King  of  Bavaria,   191, 
217,  226,  235  ff.,  248,303 

Lueger,  Karl,  Dr.,  468 

Luger  (singer),  319 

Luise,  Queen  of  Prussia,  166 
-Denmark,  367 


Grandduchess  of  Baden,  164 

Lustige    Weiber,    "Merry     Wives    of 
Windsor,"  opera  by  Nicolai,  50 


M 


Macbeth  (opera),  150,  194 
Macbeth  (tragedy),  272,  440,  444 
Maccabder,  opera  by  Rubinstein,  194 
Magdeburg,  12  f.,  219 
Mahler,  Gustav,  179,  387  ff.,  459  ff., 

462  ff . 

Mahr  (musician),  218 
Maikl,  Georg  (singer),  462,  479 
Mallinger,  Mathilde,  147  f.,  158  f., 

168,  187,  262,  309 
Malmo,  254 
Mai  ten,  Therese,  306 
Manchester,  184 
Mancinelli,  450 
Mannheim,  12,  248,  371 
Mannstadt,    Franz     (capellmeister), 

210,  214 
Mantelli,  442 

Mapleson  (impresario),  275  ff.,  368  f. 
Marcull  (critic),  103 
Margarethe,  vide  Faust 
Marie  Antoinette,  63 
Princess  of  the  Netherlands,  403 


504 


Index 


Marie  Antoinette  Stuart,  272 
Marienbad,  183,  279  f. 
Markwordt  (actor),  48 
Marlow  (singer),  78 
Marschner,  15,  76,  84 
Martha,  opera  by  Flotow,  140 
Martius  (clergyman),  51 
Maskenball,  Un   Ballo  in   Maschera, 

opera  by  Auber,  103,  175,  256 
Maskenball,    Un   Ballo   in  Maschera, 

opera  by  Verdi,  175,  256 
Materna,  Amalia,  210,  214,  224  ff., 

228,  231,  262,  306,  323,  391,  428, 

432 

Maurel,  Victor,  442  f. 
Maurer  und  Schlosser,  opera  by  Auber, 

72,  176 

Mayr,  Richard  (basso),  466,  479 
Mecklenburg-Schwerin,      Dowager 

Grandduchess,  164 

Grand  Duke  of,  168,  235 

Princess  Alexandrine,  164 

Medea,  78 

Meding  (paymaster),  118  f. 

Meiningen  (Hereditary-Duke  of),  254 

Meisslinger  (singer),  442,  448 

Meissonier,  354 

Meister singer,  opera  by  Wagner,  152, 

299,  327,  379,  436,  451 
Mendelssohn,  Felix,  126,  236,  352 
Mensing,  Adolph  (captain),  119,  310, 

347,  354 

Menzel,  Adolph,  170,  184,  196 
Mephisto  Waltz  by  Lizst,  345 
Meran,  295 

Merlin  (opera  by  Goldmark),  369 
Messiah  (Handel),  343 
Metropolitan  Opera  House,  339 
Meyer,  Louise,  vide  Dustmann 
Meyerbeer,  Cornelia,  196 
— Giacomo,  144,  281  f. 
Meyerheim,  Paul,  171 
Michalek  (singer),  466 
Michalovich  (professor),  387) 
Mierzwinski,  Ladislaus  (tenor),  318 
Mignon  (opera  by  Thomas),  125,  275 

(Philine)  290,  397 

(song  by  Liszt),  211 

Mikorey,  Franz  (conductor),  479 
Mildenburg  (singer),  469  f. 
Milwaukee,  349,  360 
Minna  von  Barnhelm  (by  Lessing),  68 
Minneapolis,  349 
Minnesota,  360 
Mirafiore,  Count,  296  f. 
Mirza-Schaffy  (poems  by  Bodenstedt) , 

184 
Mitell  (actor),  129 


Mitterwurzer,  Friedrich,  129 

Mobius  (professor),  134 

Molde,  268 

Moliere,  130 

Moll,  Carl,  471 

Moltke,  Helmuth   Count,    160,  168, 

395 

Cuno,  234 

Mondsee,  54,  226,  438 
Mon  Repos  (castle),  404  f. 
Montenuovo,  Prince  (Grand  Steward) , 

468 
Mora  in  der  Kohlmessergasse  (play), 

48 

Moser,  Anton,  461,  478 
Moser-Sperner  (actress),  129 
Mother  Angela,  63  f. 
Mother  (Sister)  Bernardine,  23,  65 
Mottl,  Felix,  193,  210,  222  ff.,  231  f., 

236  f.,  420  f.,  457,  461,472 
Mozart,  Wolfgang  Amadeus,  22,  66, 

76,  84,  106,  133,  138,  168,  171,  186, 

211,281,357,  372  f.,  378,411,415, 

417  f.,  441,  454  ff. 
Muchanoff,  170 
Muck,   Carl,   Dr.    (conductor),  352, 

441,  450,  461,  472  f.,  478  f. 
Muhldorfer  (conductor),  105 
Miiller  (singer),  203 

— Colestin,  24  ff. 

— Julius,  413 

Therese,  48 

William,  150 

Munich,  58,  80,  83,  148,  215  ff.,  321 

ff-,  378,  390,  437  S-,  456  f- 
Miinster,  Count,    Prince    (ambassa- 
dor), 277,  409 

Murska,  lima  di  (singer),  78 
Mutzenbecher,  188 


N 


Nachbauer  (singer),  50 

Nachtlager  (opera),  144 

Nausicaa,  402 

Nero,  opera  by  Rubinstein,  280 

Nesper,  Josef  (actor),  129 

Neue  Freie  Presse,  40,  121 

Neumann,  Angelo  (conductor),  302, 

343 

Neustadter  Theatre  in  Prague,  49  f. 
Neuwied,  404 
New  York,  233,  329,  334  ff.,  366  ff.," 

371  ff.,  383,  396  ff.,  479 
Niagara  Falls,  360 
Nibelungen  Ring,  321,  371,  376,  379, 

416  ff.,  441,  449 
Nibelungen  chancery,  231 


Index 


505 


Nickel  (writing-teacher),  23 

Niemann,  Albert,  18  f.,  80,  149  f., 
156  f.,  168  f.,  202,  205,  210,  214, 
218,  224,  227,  230,  232,  f.,  242, 
253,  260,  280,  285,  294,  316,  318, 
321  ff.,  325,  331,  347,  366  f.,  371, 

379,  394,  419, 428 
Niemann-Raabe,  Hedwig,  78,  231 
Niering  as  Hunding,  207 
Nietzsche,  Friedrich,  221 
Nikisch,  Arthur,  352 
Nilsson,  Christine,  274,  279,  340 
Nimbs  (singer),  40 
Ninth    Symphony    (by    Beethoven), 

179 
Noemi     (Die    Maceabaer,    opera    by 

Rubinstein),  194  ff. 
Noire  (professor),  262 
Noldech  (basso),  320 
Nordica,  Lillian,  442 
Nordstern,  opera  by  Meyerbeer,  vide 

Feldlager,  144 
Norma,  opera  by  Bellini,  12  f.,  13,  60, 

71,  80,  109,  256,  276,  292,  314,  324 

ff.,  369  f-,  372,  377,  394,  397,  45o 
Normann  (conductor),  256 
Niirnberg,  226 


O 


Oberlander  (actor),  107 
Odmann,  Alfredo  (tenor),  256 
Oldenburg,  Hereditary  Grand  Duke, 

254 

Oliva,  vide  Pepita  di 
Ontario,  Lake,  349 
Oppenheim,  Adolf,  27 
Orgeny  (singer),  106 
Ortlinde,  193 
Ortrud,  413 
Oscar,  King  of  Sweden,  256,  258  f., 

264  ff. 
Ostend,  451 
O'Sullivan,    Count,    vide   Wolter, 

Charlotte,  440 

Othello,  opera  by  Rossini,  13,  20,  219 
Ottendorfer  (editor),  346 


Padilla,  Mariano  de,  175 

Pagans  (singer),  277 

Palermo,  303 

Pamina  and  Tamino,  474  f. 

Papagena    and    Papageno,    76,    395, 

475  ff. 
Paris,  9,  130,  263,  391  f.,  409,  458 

32 


Parsifal,  299  ff.,  379  f.,  420,  451 
Patti,  Adelina,  78,  274,  278  f.,  340, 

368,  394 
Paul,  Willy,  479 

—Uncle,  25,  93,  279 
Paulowna,  Grandduchess,  235 
Paumann  (Police  lieutenant),  39 
Pawlowna  (Russian  dancer),  136 
Pepita  di  Oliva  (dancer),  64,  78 
Perfall  (general-intendant),  321  f. 
Perotti  (tenor),  375,  387 
Perponcher,  Count  and  Countess,  166, 

172  f.,  255,  276 
Perron,  Carl  (baritone),  428 
Peschka-Leutner  (singer),  125 
Petersburg,  St.,  6 1 
Petru  (singer),  466 
Pewny  (singer),  448 
Pfister,  2,  7,  8 
Philadelphia,  343,  374 
Philharmonic,  344,  472,  479 
Philippsburg,  6,  7 
Pirani,  175 
Pistor,  15 
Pittsburg,  353 
Piwko,  Dr.,  113 
Plancon,  Pol,  (singer),  442 
Planer,  Minna,  14,  219;  vide  Wagner, 

Richard 

Platen,  Count  (intendant),  288 
Pohl,  Richard,  261 
Poilpot  (painter),  277 
Pollini,  175 

Ponitz,  Franz  (harpist),  254,  257  f. 
Pontresina,  298 
Poschiavo,  297 
Potsdam,  Potsdamer  Platz,  183,  185, 

263 

Pourtales,  Count  Wilhelm,  242 
Prague,  17  f.,  21  f.,  25,  30,  33,  88  ff., 

120,  138,  148,  158,  178,  179,  288  ff., 

375 

Preissinger  (actor),  48 
Preuss  (singer),  466 
Prevention   of  Cruelty  to  Animals, 

172,  351  ff.,  468,  487 
Prillwitz,  von,  173 
Prince  Karl,  162  f. 
Princess  Friedrich  Karl,  164,  168,  171 
Princess  Karl,  162,  173 
Prophet,  opera  by  Meyerbeer,  18,72, 

79,  367,  397 


Q 


Queen  of  the  Night,  476  f. 
Queen  of  Sheba  opera  by  Goldmark, 
262,  341 


506 


Index 


R 


Raabe,  Hedwig,  vide  Niemann-Raabe 
Rabe,    Oscar    von    (major-general), 

186  f.,  234 
Radecke,   Robert    (conductor),    147, 

150,  324  f. 

Radowitz,  von  (ambassador),  435 
Radziwill,  Anton,  Prince,  172 
Raimund,  Ferdinand,  48 
Ravogli  (singer),  397  f. 
Rebicek  (conductor),  35 
Reclam  (professor),  135 
Reichel  (singer),  40 
Reichenberg,  von  (basso),  201,  210, 

215 
Reichmann,  von,  Theodor,  306,  326, 

375 
Reinecke,    Carl     (conductor),     126, 

412 

Reinhardsbrunn  in  Thuringia,  141 
Reiter,  Joseph,  467 
Religious  life,  50  ff. 
Requiem  by  Mozart,  168,  457  ff. 
Requiem  by  Verdi,  251  f. 
Reszke,  Edouard  de,  397,  442  f. 

Jean  de,  397  f.,  442  f. 

Reuss-Belce  (singer),  420 

Reuter,  Fritz,  255 

Rheingold,  191  ff.,  199  ff.,  205,  210, 

215,    227,    229,    237,     423,     434, 

443 
Rhine  daughters,  198, 210, 222, 224  f., 

228,  235  ff.,  299,  321  ff.,  421 
Rhine  Music  Festivals,  206,  292 
Richter,  Cornelia,  196 

Gustav,  170,  196 

Hans,  223  f.,  228,  292,  306,  319, 

325  ff.,  413,  415,  426  f.,  456 

(captain),  446 

(tenor),  226 

Rienzi,  opera  by  Wagner,  133,  156 

Ries  (violinist),  263 

Riese  (tenor),  290 

Riesler,  Edouard  (pianist),  436 

Riga,  104,  145,  219 

Rigoletto,  opera  by  Verdi,  i  ro 

Ring  des  Nibelungen,  321,  371,  376, 

379,  416  ff.,  441,  449 
Ringericke,  267 
Ristori,  Adelaide,  271  f.,  387 
Ritter,  Josef  (singer),  456 
Robert  der   Teufel,  Robert  le    Diable, 

opera  by  Meyerbeer,  291  f. 
Robinson,  Adolf  (singer),  79,  82,  108, 

109,  34i,  367 
Rochester,  352 
Rochlitz,  461 


Roebling,  375 

Roder,  Ferdinand  (theatrical  agent), 

98 
Roggenbach,    Baron    von    (minister 

of  finance),  405 
Rohrbeck  (actress),  48 
Roller  (painter),  464,  469,  473 
Rome,  279,  280 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  12,  13 
Romer,  Frau  Bertha  and  family,  20, 

26  f.,  34,  48  ff.,  58,  60,  69,  71  f.,  89, 

93,  97,  ioi,  343 
Rommel,  Baron  von,  188 
Roosevelt,  Cornelius,  354 
Rooy,  Anton  van  (singer),  441 
Rosen,  Count,  256,  258 
Rosen  thai,  Moritz  (pianist),  444  f. 
Rosine  (//  Barbiere,  opera  by  Rossini), 

136 
Rossi,  Ernesto,  272 

Gioachino  Antonio,  20,  278 

Rossweisse,  193 

Rotterdam,  17 

Rubinstein,  Anton,  169,  184,  194  ff., 

277,  280 

Josef,  210 

•Wera,  196 


Riickauf  (composer),  58 

Rudolf,  Archduke,  Crown  Prince  of 

Austria,  439 

Rummel,  Franz  (pianist),  331 
Rungjsnhagen  (musician),  263 
Ruciczka  (dancing-master),  46 


Sachs,  von,  355 

Sachse-Hofmeister  (singer),  316,  318, 

324,  330 
Sagan,  Duchess  of,  173 

Duke  of,  486 

Saint-Saens,  277  f . 

St.  John  Nepomuc,  47 

St.  Wencelaus,  47 

Salesi  (singer),  442 

Salignac  (singer),  442 

Salomon,  Heinrich  (bass-buffo),  149, 

308 

Dr.  (governor),  360 

Salzburg,  292,  438,  441,  454  ff. 

Sancho  Panza,  485 

Santis,  9 

Sarastro,  475  ff. 

Satori,  64 

Scalchi  (singer),  397 

Scaria,  202  f.,  210,  214  f.,  230,  236, 

306,  326 
Schafberg,  439 


Index 


507 


Scharfling  on  Mondsee,  54,  226,  437 

ff.,  487 
Scheffel,    von,   Joseph    Victor,     121, 

141 

Scheffzky  as  Sieglinde,  216  f.,  421 
Scheidemantel  (singer),  319 
Schelble,  12 

Schelper,  Otto  (singer),  149  £.,  227 
Schikaneder,  66,  474 
Schiller,  Friedrich  von,  121,  138,  188, 

214 

Schindler,  Alma,  471 
Schirmer  (comedian),  in 
Schleinitz,  Count  and  Countess,  169 

f.,  196,  235,  435 
Schleswig-Holstein,  368 
Schleyder  von  Wartensen,  12 
Schlichting,  General  von,  184 
Schloss  (stage-manager),  180  f. 
Schlosser  as  Mime,  229 
Schmedes  (tenor),  470 
Schmidt,  Alois,  235,  457 

Gustav,  105,  107,  126 

• Theodor,  150 

Dr.  (singer),  78 

• (conductor),  133 

Schneider,  Therese,  76 

Schnorr  von  Carolsfeld,  78,  85,  319 

Scholz  (illustrator  of  Kladderadatsch, 

170 

Schone  Galathea,  71 
Schopenhauer,  192 
Schrenck,  von  (captain),  190 
Schroder  (theatrical  tailor),  325 
Schroder-Devrient,  Wilhelmine,  13  f., 

192 
Schubert,  Franz,  138,  417,  430,   436 

(Erlkonig) 

Schuch,  Ernst  von  (Frau),  (conduc- 
tor), 84,  288  f.,  319,  413,  461,  472 

£.,  478  f. 

Kathe  von,  478,  479 

Schumann,  Clara,  133 

Robert,  138,  187,  391 

Schumann-Heink  (singer),  436,  442 

Schurz,  Carl,  346,  374 

Schiitz,  294 

Schwabe,  184 

Schwarze  Domino  (Le  Domino  Noir), 

opera  by  Auber,  101,  103,  128 
Schwendemann,  Wilhelm,  188,  487 
Schweninger,  Prof.  Ernst,  311,  328, 

400 

Schwestka,  Karl,  67  f. 
Scotti,  Antonio,  479,  483 
Sedan,  134 

Seebach,  Marie,  78,  116 
Segenhaus,  Castle,  402  ff. 


Segurola,    Andrea   de    (singer),    479, 

483  f. 
Seidl,  Anton    (conductor),  193,  210, 

222,  231,  343,  352,  367,  372,  379  f., 

385,  397,  428 
Heinrich    (manager),    126,    128, 

131,  178 

Seidl  Society,  380 
Sekira,  48 

Selika  (L'Africaine),  398 
Selisberg,  188  ff. 
Sembrich,  Marcella,  442 
Seydewitz,  Josephine,  Countess,  173 
Shah  of  Persia,  186 
Shakespeare,  86,  121,  194,  272,  278, 

477 
Siegfried,  169,  193,  206,  228,  236, 307, 

332,  356,  358,  371,  375,  429  ff- 
Sieglinde,  316,  321  ff.,  419,  441 
Sieglitz  (singer),  457 
Siegmund,  316 
Siegstadt  (singer),  201,  203 
Siehr  (basso),  58 
Sigrune,  201 
Sigurd,  148 

Sylvia,  ballet  by  Delibes,  414 
Simon  (actor),  99 
Sistine  Madonna,  181 
Skutta  (comedian),  48 
Slansky  (conductor),  70 
Slezak,  Leo  (tenor),  479 
Solf  (architect),  382 
Solothurn,  31 

Sonnambula,  La  (opera),  173 
Sonnenthal,  Adolf,  78 
Sonntheim  (singer),  78 
Sontag,  Henrietta,  15,  263 
Southampton,  333,  382  f. 
Speyer,  2,  3,  5,  7 
Spillecke  in  Paris  (farce),  in 
Spindler      (lady-of  -  the-bedchamber ) , 

92,  no 

Spittel  (privy-councillor),  113 
Spohr,  Ludwig,  14  f.,  84,  236 
Spontini,  15 

Stanek  (harpist),  61,  121 
Stanton,  Edmund  (manager),  342  f., 

375,  379  f-,  385 
Staudigl  (singer),  352 
Stavanger,  271 
Steger  (tenor),  78 
Stehmann,  Gerhard,  461,  479 
Steinecke  (singer),  50,  79 
Steinway,  331,  346  f. 
Stern  (Daniel),  191 
Stilfser  Joch,  295 
Stockhausen  (singer),  171,  203 
(actor),  283 


508 


Index 


Stockhausen,  Klara,  204 
Stockholm,  251  ff.,  264!.,  300 
Stoeger  (manager),  20,  39,  42 
Stolzing,  Walther  von  (Die  Meister- 

singer),  327 

Stormer  (captain),  445,  448 
Stradella,  opera  by  Flotow,  50,    79, 

95 

Strakosch,  Alexander,  130,  132 

Stralsund,  254 

Strantz,  Ferdinand  von,  140  f.,  177, 

331,  347 
Strassmann,  137 
Strassmann-Dambock,  129 
Strauss,  Richard,  437 
St.  Gall,  10 
St.  Gilgen,  439 
St.  Louis,  350,  352,  358 
St.  Moritz,  297 
St.  Nicholas  Theatre,  60 
St.  Paul,  350 

Stubenrauch,  Amalie,  28,  31 
Stumme  von  Portici   (La    Muette  de 

Portii),  opera  by  Aubcr,  136,  148, 

261 

Stuttgart,  31  f.,  263 
Sucher,  Rosa,  419,  428,  441 
Susanne  (Figaro),  187 
Swoboda,  Albin,  78 
Sze"gal,  Gabriele  (singer),  183  f. 


Taglioni,  254 

Tamino  and  Pamina,  476  f. 

Tancred,  opera  by  Verdi,  78 

Tannhduser.  opera  by  Wagner,  39, 
42,  85,  88,  1 06,  264  f.,  280,  290, 
(Venus)  294,  373,  (Elisabeth)  375, 
378 

Taubert,  W.  (capellmeister),  150, 
161,  165,  194 

Taussig,  Karl  (pianist),  170 

Tell  (by  Schiller),  88,  188 

Tell  (Guillaume  Tell),  opera  by  Ros- 
sini, 79,  82,  1 08,  256,  318 

Templer  und  Judin  opera  by  Marsch- 
ner,  12 

Ternina,  Milka,  451 

Tewele,  Franz  and  Maria,  440 

Therese  Krones,  48 

Thielman,  Baron  von  (ambassador), 
383 

Thode,  Daniele,  436 

Thomas,  Theodore,  344  f.,  352,  357 

Thome"  (manager),  49 

Tietjens  (singer),  276 

Tilgner,  Victor,  415,  417  f.,  430 


Titus  (opera  by  Mozart),  254 
Toms  (musician),  218 
Toronto,  357 
Tradition,  83 

Traiteur,  von  (family),  7,  8 
Traubmann  (Doctor  of  medicine),  310 
Trdume    (M.   Wesendonk — R.    Wag- 
ner), 392 
Traviata,  opera  by   Verdi,   256,   264, 

275,  44« 

Trebelli  (singer),  78,  276 
Tremelli,  Olga  (singer),  279,  479 
Trepplin,  165 
Treumann  (actor),  78 
Treusel  (singer),  201 
Tristan  und  Isolde,  62,  83,  122,  181, 

202,  218,  232  f.,  292,  308,  311,  319 

f.,  325.  367,  379,  392,  415,  437,  441, 

450,  469  ff. 
Trojan,  Johann,  190 
Troubadour  (II  Trovatore),   opera  by 

Verdi,  83  f.,  324,  376,  397,  449 
Troy,  375 
Twelfth  Night  (Shakespeare),  194 


U 


Ulrich,  100,  103,  113,  116 

Undine,  opera  by  Lortzing,  101,  106, 

109 

linger  as  Siegfried,  206 
Upsala,  257 
Usedom,  Count,  170 


V 


Valentine  (Die  Hugenotten),  276,  442 

Van  Dyck,  442  f. 

Van  Rooy,  441 

Veblingsnas,  269 

Vegeterianism,  192,  400 

Velasquez,  484 

Venus  (Tannhduser),  319,  373 

Verdi,  Giuseppe,  76,  175,  351  f.,  256, 

449 

Verschwender  (by  Raimund),  48 
Vestal  Virgin,  80 
Viardot,  Garcia,  464 
Victor  Emmanuel  I.,  King  of  Italy,  296 
Victoria,  Empress  of  Germany,  163 
-Queen  of  England,  163,  369 


Vidal  (tenor),  175 

Vielka  vide  Feldlager 

Vienna,  30,  61,  81,  121,  179,  182,  197, 
198,  201,  202  f.,  227,  262  f.,  281, 
286,  288  ff.,  324  f.,  351,  365,  389, 
394,  412,  441,  453,  458,  467,  473, 
486 


Index 


509 


Vienna,  Waltzes  (ballet),  330 

Villard,  Henry,  453 

Voggenhuber    (singer),    147    f.,    202, 

217,  232  f.,  254,  262,  281,  316,  324, 

330  f.,  429 
Vogl,  Heinrich  and  Therese,  199,  227, 

233,  322,  377  f-,  420,  426,  429,  456 
Voigts-Rhetz,  General  von,  188 
Vom  Juristentag  (short  play),  68 


W 


Wachtel,  Theodor,  360 
Waffenschmied,    opera    by    Lortzing, 

79,  101,  449 
Wagner,  Cosima,   191,  209  ff.,  380, 

415  f.,  435  f. 

Minna,  vide  Planer 

Richard,  13  ff.,  39  ff.,  61  ff., 

76,  80,  83  f.,  141,  169  f.,  179  f., 
189  ff.,  198  ff.,  202  ff.,  241  ff.,  251, 
261,  299  ff.,  321  f.,  323,  343,  357  f., 
366,  372  f.,  377  f.,  385,  391  f.,  396, 

416  ff.,  454  f.,  478 

— Siegfried,  192,  219,  419,  424  ff., 

435 

Wahnfried,  190  f.,  432,  434  f. 
Waldvogel    (Siegfried),   vide    Forest 

Bird 

Walker,  Edith,  456 
Walkiire,  62,  (Ride  of  Valkyries)  193, 

201,  205,  215  f.,  227,  230,  239,  302, 

316,  321  f.,  330,  341,  397,  413,  423, 

442,  450 

Walter,  Gustav,  291 
Walther,  Marie,  68,  72 
Waltraute,  422,  430  f. 
Wartburg,  141 
Wartensen,  12 
Washington,  383 
Wasserreich  (prompter),  67 
Weber,  Karl  Maria  von,  15,  76,  84, 

X38,  371  (Euryanthe) 

— Max  Maria  von,  184 
Weckerlin  (singer),  322,  420 
Wedekind,  Erika,  456 
Weggis,  189 
Weidemann,  466 
Weimar,  232 

Weingartncr,  Felix,  441,  473,  479 
Weisse  Frau  (La  Dame  Blanche),  opera 

by  Boieldieu,  153 
Weissenbach  on  Attersee,  440 
Weissenburg,  143 
Wellgunde,  191 
Wernecke,    Dr.    Wilhelm,   328,    400, 

438 
Werther,  Julius  von,  248 


Wesendonk,  Mathilde,  307  f.,  335 
Westphalen,  Countess,  vide  Fricdberg 
Wickinger,  Die,  opera  by  Hallstrom, 

264 

Widerspenstigen  Zahmung  (The  Tam- 
ing of  the  Shrew),  opera  by  Gotz, 
281,  286,  290 

Wied,  Princess  Marie  of,  403 
Wiedemann  (violoncellist),  58 
Wiedemann,  Robert  (singer),  127 
Wieck,  Clara,  vide  Schumann 

Marie,  133 

Wiegand  (singer),  319 
Wieprecht,  202 

Wiesbaden,  30,  164,  184,  187  f.,  410, 
413,  441,  449,  (May  Festival)  450, 

453 

Wight,  Isle  of,  333 
Wild  (singer),  201 
Wildenbruch,  Ernst  von,  146,  184 
Wildschiitz,  opera  by  Lortzing,   290, 

308  f. 

Wilhelm,  Adolph,  Prince,  403,  405 
1.,  German  Emperor,  136, 151  ff., 

160,  167,  188,  257,  282,  285,  315, 

347 
II.,  German  Emperor,  134,  386, 

393,  413 

Wilhelmy  (violinist),  218,  225  f.,  229 
Wilt,  Marie,  183,  262,  291  f.,  326 
Winkelmann,  Hermann,  324,  326 
Winter's  Tale  (opera  by  Barbieri),  86 
Winz  (family  in  Neuwied),  404 
Wirsing  (director),  75  f.,  87,  95,  97, 

no,  121 

Woglinde,  191,  300 
Wolf,  Hermann,  415 
Wolkenstein-Trostburg,  Count,  170 
Wolter,  Charlotte,  440 
Wotan,  316,  441,  445 
Woworsky,  Anton  (singer),  149 
Wrangel,  General,  169,  186 
Wrede,  Amalia,  Princess  of,  36,  439 

— Karl  Theodor,  Prince  of,  439 
Wullner,    Franz     (conductor),    289, 

292 

Wurm,  Betty,  23 
Wurst,  Professor,  145,  194 
Wurzburg,  17,  188,  487 


Zampa  (opera),  82 

Zappert,  45 

Zare    und    Zimmermann,  opera    by 

Lortzing,  101,  in 
Zdrtlichen    Verwandten,    comedy    by 

Roderich  Benedix,  in 


Index 


Zauberflote,  opera  by  Mozart,  75, 
88,  109,  290  (Queen  of  the  Night) 
392,  459,  472  ff. 

Zauberschleier,  48 

Zelter,  Karl  Friedrich  (musician),  263 


Ziegler,  Clara,  129 
Zietenhusaren,  opera  by  Scholz,  148 
Zimmer  (conductor),  210 
Zottmeyer  (singer),  108  f. 
Zumpe  (conductor),  210 


Jl  Selection  from  the 
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Memoirs  of  a  Prima 
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(Mme.  Strakosch) 

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Johann  Sebastian  Bach 

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H 


305 


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A     000146816 


1 


MUSI0 
LIBRARY 

MU 


